Special Delivery
by one-hep-cat
Summary: Everything that can go wrong will. So says Murphy’s Law. Duo makes a purchase online and gets far more than he bargained for when the delivery arrives! AU. Yaoi.
1. Murphy's Law

**Special Delivery**

_Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Wing. Any original stuff is likely mine and I'll disclaim it later if it's not!_

_AN: I tried… I really tried not to post this before I finished either Unstable or Replaced, but I couldn't help myself!_

_Warnings: My first AU chock full of foul language, rampant abuse of Murphy's Law, yaoi situations, and the potential for pathetic humor, lemony freshness, wit, sarcasm, drama, and mass chaos. If any of this bothers you, find something else to read. No one is forcing misery upon you! Otherwise, please enjoy!_

**Chapter 1: _Murphy's Law_**

It's just one of those days. You know, the sort where everything that can go wrong _does_ with great enthusiasm. My car blew a head gasket in the middle of the highway. It's going to cost about $1100, getting the bitch repaired. My best (and only) design partner quit to start a new career in foot modeling. Yes. Foot modeling. In the middle of a major project. My lunch was a soggy, inedible mess from hell. My newest client wants the entire design I just finished last night reinvented. From scratch. My latest boyfriend dumped me for a strawberry blonde bodybuilder in a g-string. Who is pretty freaking ugly, by the way, for a guy who enters relationships based upon looks alone. My precious dog Skylar devoured my favorite shoes and then puked up the laces on my recently shampooed carpet. And now I sit in my kitchen, beaten, hungry, and worn out from the past 9 hours of Murphy's Law's brutality with a stack of bills within my reach and a deceptively chipper letter in my hand inviting me to a_five_ year reunion of all things for a high school I swore I would never return to. And the sick part is that a little sliver of me actually wants to go to see old friends and whether or not 'Duo is a homo' is still scribbled on the bathroom wall in black permanent marker, along with my old phone number and 'call if you want to have a good time'.

Okay, so I don't really want to see the graffiti bits. But seeing old friends might be nice…

Or maybe not…

I groan, slumping back in my chair, thinking of the last time I talked to my closest friend- a spunky, bubbly blond with a shitload of money named Quatre. And how I kind-of-sort-of led him to believe that I was involved in a serious relationship. He proceeded to attempt to plan my future wedding before his smoking hot husband with the equally smoking hot body finally stepped in to shut him up and save my ass from further wedded torment- I mean bliss.

The problem is there never _was_ any serious relationship with me. I wince as I realize how close to lying I was then. I _had_ been in a relationship at the time- lasted a maximum of a week, that one… and not at _all_ serious- and I just let dear Quatre jump to conclusions to his heart's content. The way I let him go on, he probably assumes I'll be inviting him to the wedding any day now. So _naturally_, he'd want to meet Duo Maxwell's Mr. Right- his words, not mine. And I _really_ don't want to tell him I'm single. Again. Despite living some ten hours away from me, he has this frustrating habit of trying to fix me up with eligible singles. I appreciate the effort, but please _spare _me the inhumanity.

With a long-suffering sigh, I smooth my hand over my face. Beside me, Skylar whines loudly, eager for attention, thumping her tail on the hardwood floor. I glance over at her through my fingers and that fluffy tail wags a little and she grins at me, tongue lolling. Well, I don't know if dogs actually grin, but it looks like she does anyway. It's cute.

Despite my day, I manage a small smile. I don't really _have_ to go. After all, I can always see my best friends some other time. Not to mention the fact that I'd have to find someplace or someone to take care of Skylar for the weekend and I've never trusted anyone enough to do the honors.

As if she knows I'm thinking about her, she rises on her hind legs and settles her front paws in my lap, tail wagging harder than ever. She makes a snorfling whine in the back of her throat to make sure that my attention is on her. I have to laugh. Reaching down, I scratch behind her ears.

"All right, you little demon shoe-eater-puker-upper. I won't go."

She lunges forward and plants a sloppy kiss on my cheek.

I grin. "How about we go for a walk? Does Sky want to go for a walkies?" I croon in a voice I might reserve for talking to small children. Which, in my case, is my dog. She scrambles off my lap, tail wagging hard enough that I'm surprised she doesn't wag herself in half. Then she barks and spins around in a circle, staring as I get to my feet. "I'll take that as a yes."

She makes a mad dash for the front door, legs flying everywhere.

"Sit!" I shout, though I can't help but grin. Her nose is pressed to the crack between the door and the frame, her tail wagging probably ninety miles an hour. She plops down hastily, but her whole body is aquiver.

I clip on her leash and she all but hauls me out the door, leaving me barely enough time to set the electronic lock before my arm is separated from my body.

"Good evening!" calls old Ms. Ivers, my eighty-some-odd neighbor who drives me nuts because at least once a week she asks me to do her lawn or help her move her couch or weed her garden or something. And me, being _me_, I can't refuse her. She's a nice old lady but god! Hire a lawn service!

Damn… I'm not usually this horrible. Stupid day… Stupid Murphy!

Thankfully, Ms. Ivers doesn't ask for any favors. She knows how Skylar gets on her walks. _Nobody_ interferes with my poochie and her daily stroll.

With a sigh, I round the corner and pick up the pace to a light jog. Skylar gives an excited bark and nearly tries to yank my arm from my socket before I rein her in. "Heel. _Heel,_" I command. Eventually she listens and we fall into our routine- jog down the street, around a few blocks, stop to sniff the stop sign that she sniffs every single time we go out, jog around a few more blocks and head home just as the streetlights are coming on.

When I return to my tiny little house, it's nearly dark. Skylar takes care of her business on the lawn and then we head in. The alarm chirps when I enter and I deactivate the code. Leaning down, I unclip the dog's leash and she scrambles off in search of her favorite chew toy, which are no longer my shoes as she ate them already… Otherwise, there is nothing else but silence. My stomach growls at me but I find I have no appetite. I just want to curl up on the couch with a blanket and a can of beer and watch a cheesy slasher flick.

This is kind of pathetic. The highlight of my day is going on a walk with the dog. Aside from the sudden influx of bad karma today, I've decided that I need to spice up my life some. It has come to my attention that it is incredibly dull…

Heading into the kitchen, I yelp in surprise when the sound of the ringing phone pierces the silence. Pressing a hand over my wildly beating heart, I wait for the blasted phone to ring a second, then a third time before I'm composed enough to answer.

"Ye-hello," I say with an air of casualness. As if I hadn't just had the piss scared out of me. Crossing the kitchen, I open the refrigerator door in search of a beer.

"Hey Duo!" replies an overly chipper voice. Well, overly chipper in relation to my gruesome day.

But I smile anyway. I can't help it. That voice inspires a cheerful mood. "Hey Quat." I glance over my shoulder and wave at the small image of my dearest, blondest friend. "Where is Tall, Dark, and Broodingly Handsome?"

"Not here at the moment."

"Why Quat, you whore! Cheating with me behind your husband's back!" I gasp dramatically as I pull out a cold beer.

He laughs. "Only with you, Duo."

I flutter my lashes, cracking the beer open. "I'm so flattered." I take a sip, wandering over to the screen. "So, to what do I owe the honor of home wrecking?"

Quatre tosses a tuft of blond hair from his eyes. "Just wondering how you were doing. I haven't heard from you in a while."

"Ah… I've been busy," I reply. "But things are going well." Hey, I'm not starving and homeless on the street. I have a dog that loves me. I have my can of beer. I'd consider that as things going well…

"Did you get the invitation to the class reunion?"

Damn him… I try to keep up a positive face. "Yes, yes I did."

"And?"

"And what?" I reply coyly.

He gives me that adorably agitated look that only he can manage when he knows I'm being difficult on purpose. "Are you going?"

"Oh… ah… Man, I don't know…" I say evasively. "So, how are things going over there?"

"Fine, and don't change the subject." Quatre stares sternly at me.

With a sigh, I take another sip of my beer and avert my eyes.

"Duo… what's wrong?"

"Nothing you could help with."

He makes an offended noise. That's Quatre… always wants to help and _hates_ to be told he can't. "Come on, Duo… Come out here. We miss you!"

I can't help but grin at this. "We?"

"Yes. Trowa does too. Well, I mean he would if you stopped calling him a cradle robber when we're together," he teases. "He's only three years older than me."

"_Only._" That's considering he started dating Trowa when he was a sophomore in high school. And old Good Lookin' was in his first year of college.

"So why don't you want to come?" he persists.

I sigh. "I don't know… I just… I'm busy… and Hilde left to start a foot-modeling career and I have to fix a lot of shit because of it-"

"Wait a minute… Hilde? _Foot_ modeling?!"

"Who's foot modeling?" I hear off screen.

I smirk. "Hey, Cradle Robber," I tease, waving as Trowa steps up behind Quatre.

Trowa glares at me and gives Quat a welcome home kiss that I envy more than I would ever dare express.

"Hey! No canoodling on the phone!"

He simply smirks and nuzzles Quat's neck. I hate him sometimes. He_knows _that I can't stand when they do that… perhaps he knows it makes me jealous as fuck… Anyway, Quat's eyes glaze over in that certain way and I know that _someone_ is getting laid tonight. I try not to let jealousy rear its ugly head, but it's winning.

Quat shakes his head and shoos his cradle-robbing spouse away with a 'we'll continue this later' smile. His head whips back to the screen as his behavior does a complete 180. "So you're coming."

"Quatre-" I protest.

"Give me a good reason why not! And busy isn't good enough," he adds before I can open my mouth.

"Well… I _am _busy. But there is also affording a hotel for myself and a place that will put up Skylar for the weekend- and you_know_ I don't trust kennels or people in general when it comes to her. Among… other things." That I'm sure with time I can invent.

"You can stay with us."

"No he can't!" I hear Trowa shout in the background.

"Love you too, hotstuff!" I shout.

Quat rolls his eyes at our banter. "Yes, you can. Don't listen to him. Stay with us. Bring Skylar along.

"I'm allergic to dogs," Trowa's muffled voice argues.

"No you aren't, love." Quat looks at me. "And as far as those 'other' things…" he grins. "Bring them along. I've been_dying_ to meet the man who stole Duo's heart."

I give him a weak laugh. "We're both gay so I know I can get away with saying this- that's the gayest thing you've _ever_ said, Quat. And… I just… I don't know…" Come on man, just give it up. If I have to put up with any more cajoling, I'm going to cave. Give it up… come on Quat! For me!

"Please?" Then he pulls out the big guns.

Aw shit… Not The Expression!

The Expression is the most feared tool of persuasion Quatre has to offer. His eyes grow wide and innocently round, and his face takes on a sweet cherubic quality, which, I assure you, he is neither sweet nor cherubic in personality. Add that mop of blond hair and a pink and pouting lip and you have a man who could stop a war in its tracks. No one can resist it. Especially not me.

I once teased that it was how he got Trowa to propose to him and he proceeded to hook me up with a creepy guy who rearranged the eggs in my refrigerator into neat little patterns on a daily basis. This time I hold my tongue.

"Quatre…" I whine. He's won. And he knows it.

"Great! So we'll expect you Friday the 16th at… 8:00?"

"Sure…"

"Wonderful! See you guys in two weeks!" And the screen goes black.

I groan, smacking my hand to my face and dragging it down. Guys. With an 's'. And I don't expect that he meant Skylar with that phrase.

Dammit! I can't show up at Quat's single! He'll try to fix me up with someone and Trowa will laugh and my life will get even worse than it is now… Gah! What the hell am I going to do!?


	2. EZ Choice

**Special Delivery**

**Chapter 2: _E-Z Choice_**

It sounds like ballistics going off in my head when my alarm lets out a screaming ring for me to get up. Muttering a thousand oaths, I slap my hand down on the infernal device until it shuts off. With a feeble moan, I roll onto my back, only to feel as though my brain is banging around inside my head with even the slightest movement. And you can forget about opening my eyes. I can see the faint glow of sunlight filtering through my curtains behind my eyelids and it already makes me wince. 

Ladies and gentlemen, it sounds like Duo Maxwell has the hangover from _Hell_… 

Great. Just great.

Thank God it's Saturday… Pitifully, I moan again. Ah, Christ! _Why_ did I set my alarm then? Because I'm _stupid!_

As if on cue, the stupid machine goes off again.

With a wordless yell, I yank the clock off my desk, ripping the plug from the wall, and I chuck it across the room. The noise makes Skylar crazy and she dives off my bed and skitters across the floor to bark incessantly (and _loudly!_) at the clock.

Why me? _Why me!_ Clutching my head, still refusing to open my eyes, I sit up. Even though I can't see it, I feel like the world is a Tilt-a-Whirl around me.

"Skylar!" I yell, despite the fact that it just adds to the splitting headache. I open my eyes to give her a stern look, though I doubt there is much force behind it. "No! Bark! No bark!"

With a squeaky noise in the back of her throat, she jumps on the bed and dives off again, tail waving and tongue lolling. As if this is just a fun little game- if you've noticed, she's not well trained. The motion makes the bed heave like a boat at sea. I clutch my stomach and scramble for the bathroom. I trip over Skylar as I do so, who yelps and scrambles out from beneath my clumsy feet, dragging said feet with her so that I nearly brain myself on the sink. I somehow manage to shift my fall so that I crash before the toilet instead. Clutching the porcelain sides, ignoring the pain I feel in my hip and shoulder, my back heaves up and over and I puke like I've never puked before.

When my stomach swears it's empty of all contents, I sit on the floor, leaning back against the wall, and wipe the evidence of last night's alcohol binge from my mouth with a few squares of toilet paper. Skylar creeps over and shoves her nose under my arm, begging for attention even now. 

"Never… let daddy… drink again," I tell her as I catch my breath. "Ugh…" I lean my head against the wall and close my eyes. Today is looking to be a repeat of yesterday's luck… God, I just want to crawl back into bed and mope and recover! Screw Murphy! But Skylar won't have it. With one of the many funny noises she's capable of making, she crawls onto my lap and sticks her nose on my face. Barf breath must smell so appealing to her…

"Oh all right…" I crack my eye open and peer at her. She's grinning at me. "Come on you little beastie… Let's get you some breakfast. Even though you don't deserve it because you nearly killed me."

With a high-pitched bark of joy that splits my head into quarters, she scrambles to my door, then to the kitchen once I let her out. Yawning and groaning and muttering general complaints, I stagger drunkenly after her, pushing my hands through the rat's nest that is usually my hair.

"Aw fuck…" I mutter. It's going to take an eternity to comb out. If I can muster the energy to do it, that is.

From the kitchen, Skylar barks, as if I could've forgotten to feed the little beast.

"I'm coming, I'm coming." I can hear her nails clacking merrily on the linoleum. I guess it's nice to know _someone_ is happy to be awake this morning.

I scoop out some food for her and set a pot of coffee on before wandering into my little cramped, messy office. The stench of alcohol overwhelms me and I stagger to the window to wrench it open and air the room out. I must've been _wasted_ last night. I don't remember a thing. I guess it's a good thing I didn't go out to get drunk or I would've woken up next to a stranger. I tend to bring home 'strays' when I get so far gone.

Immediately, I get on the computer crammed in the corner of my little office. After a night like last night, it's imperative that I make sure I didn't do anything stupid- like email obscene messages to my clients or erase all my important files… stuff like that. The awful part is I've done such things before, which is why I check for them now. I scan my recycle bin and my clients' folders… Okay. Looks like that's all intact. 

Opening my email account, I first check my sent log. Nothing to my clients except what was due to them. Good. For once I didn't make an ass out of myself while under the influence. Feeling much calmer, I take my time to check my messages. I frown slightly when I see the subject that reads 'Thank you for choosing E-Z Choice!'

Upon clicking the email, an official looking letter opens up.

E-Z CHOICE is splashed across the heading in a basic, yet tasteful font. 

_Making lives happier since 1954! _Lame tagline. _100 customer satisfaction guarantee or your money back!_ Extremely lame tagline.

My frown deepens even further.

_Thank you for choosing E-Z Choice for all your personal needs! Your order has been received and a personalized greeting package will be sent to your address in 2-5 business days. _

My eyes widen in alarm. What the hell?

I scan the rest of the email.

_Regards, P. T. Riteman_ followed by numerous titles.

Is this a scam or did I purchase something I'm going to regret? I move to click on the link to this E-Z Choice place, but then Skylar barks once and starts to whine pathetically. _Shit! _I forgot to take her out! Scrambling to my feet, desperate to avoid an accident indoors, I hurry for the door, snapping on a leash and letting her drag me outside to do her business. There's no way in hell I want to deal with cleaning up any _surprises._

A neighbor jogs by and I wave, unconcerned that I'm still in my pajamas, barefoot, and pretty much look like shit. She grins flirtatiously at me and consequently runs into my mailbox.

I laugh quietly to myself as she stumbles on, dragging Skylar back inside. Well, well, well… despite looking so shitty, it seems I still have it. Such knowledge does wonders for my ego.

Releasing Skylar so she can tear apart my house, I grab myself a cup of coffee. Padding into the living room, I flop onto the couch and flip on the morning news out of habit more than any desire to actually watch it. It's always the same anyway misery anyway: tragedy, mischief, and scandal. Just perpetrated by different … perpetrators.

So that was a bit pathetic. Hey, I'm hung-over. Give me a break.

"…to the heir to the Wing International Software Company, which will further both…" the reporter drones on.

Heh… WISC… Whisk… 

Dude, it's funny.

I let my gaze travel to the screen, ignoring the reporter as she rambles on about WISC… I actually own some of their programs, now that I think of it… So anyway, about ignoring the reporter- instead, I pay attention to the bona fide Sex God that walks briskly across the screen. He shields his eyes from flashing bulbs, transfixing me. He looks Asian, by the almond shape of his eyes and the certain pout to his lips. Dark hair swept back in a business-like fashion, creamy skin, and a smooth, angular face that a model would kill for looking positively _edible_ in a suit tailor made for that fine-looking body of his. I feel like a disgusting slob in comparison with my messy braid, wrinkled lounge pants, and ratty t-shirt.

Unfortunately Mr. Sex God disappears then into a shiny black sedan with darkly tinted windows and the news breaks for a commercial. "Hey!" I whine, waving my hand towards the screen impatiently. "Bring back that fine hunk of man!" 

Of course, it doesn't comply. Instead, dancing figures singing the praises of chocolate flavored laxatives spin across the screen. Ugh! That is _so_ not fair!

Skylar barks at the screen as if to agree with me. She then seizes one of her chew toys and plops at my feet with a '_squeak-squeak-squeak!_' With a faint laugh, I reach down and giver her head a vigorous rub. 

With tentative agreement from my stomach, I get to my feet and head for the kitchen for a very light breakfast. Only to find that, when I open the fridge, all that I have is a nearly empty gallon of milk, some Indian takeout, and an unopened box of butter. Heh… even the_ beer_ is gone.

_Yeah…_I think it's time to go grocery shopping…

----

The rest of my weekend was spent catching up on work. I had a lot to do, after all, since Hilde left. Bless her for choosing such a weird career path. But I managed to catch up enough that I'm actually able to go home on time this fine and sunny Monday afternoon. The bout of bad luck I had on Friday that had spilled into part of Saturday seems to have lifted some today.

When I get home, my living room is still intact. Skylar takes care of business as soon as we head out the door (and not anywhere in the house), and I'm back inside by 5:00 making a tasty Italian casserole that I learned from the cooking channel. I hum as I chop onions, lost in my own little "cooking world" so when I hear a knock on the door, it startles the shit out of me. Thankfully, I don't cut a finger off in the process.

Wiping my hands on a towel, I shunt Skylar aside (who is so eager to greet my guest) and answer the door. Well he_llo_ Good-Lookin'.

"Delivery for Duo Maxwell."

A package? For me? I give the hot delivery guy- his nametag reads James- a flirty smile as I take his electronic notepad and sign. Hey, a guy can play around a little, can't he? I don't normally go for redheads, but he makes it work. A little flustered, James hands me the package and bids me a good day. I stand in the doorway, head tilted as I watch him head back to his truck. What a _fine _ass he has. I know _one_ package I'd like to unwrap right now…

Of course, then he disappears into his truck and drives away. Damn the luck.

With a grin, I shake my head and close the door. So, I wonder whom the package is from… It's about eight months too early for a birthday gift. Unfortunately, the address on the label isn't a familiar one. The package itself is about half an inch deep and the general size of poster board. Curious, I head into the kitchen to grab a pair of scissors and cut through the tape. What's inside makes my jaw drop. 


	3. The Greeting Package

**Special Delivery**

**Chapter 3: _The Greeting Package_**

Amidst multi-colored packing peanuts there is a clean, white heavyweight sign, with Asian characters scribbled on it in large, precise black print.

Someone sent me artwork? Oh, maybe it's a future design project I forgot about. No… no… I'd think something like this would jog my memory and I have no memory of such a project.

Carefully, I pull the sign from the box and a sheet of paper flutters to the floor. Bending down, I pick it up. By the looks of it, it's a flight itinerary… Wait. A _flight _itinerary? Just what in hell is going on?

Setting the two items from the package (gift? Project?) aside, I return to the box they came in. Inside, there is an envelope. Maybe _this_ will answer my questions. I tear it open and shake out the contents. It appears to be a letter. The banner 'E-Z Choice' is boldly printed across the top.

E-Z Choice… E-Z Choice… Wait. Where have I heard that name before? Wasn't there something I forgot regarding—oh _shit_. That e-mail! Tossing the letter aside, I scramble for my office, ignoring the frantic barks my haste has startled out of Skylar. My speed causes me to slip outside the door and skid partway across the floor (well, I am a super-klutz to begin with) but I'm on my feet in seconds and dashing into the room. Of course, then I crash thigh first into the edge of my computer desk (luckily for me it wasn't a few more inches to the right… I don't want to go crushing the 'goods'. Being a soprano is _not _on my list of goals for this life.) Swearing, I plop before my computer and turn it on, waiting impatiently for it to boot up.

E-Z Choice… I had totally forgotten about it. My unusual drunken purchase. The one I thought was a scam. It's very real apparently, if that package in my kitchen is anything to go by.

As soon as I'm able, I log into my email account and open that E-Z Choice email that is still in my inbox. How could I have forgotten it?

Hands shaking, wondering what the hell I've gotten myself into, I click the link. On the splash page that loads, there is a picture of a man and woman laughing and walking on the beach. O_kay_. A dating site, maybe? That's pretty low, even for me. Unfortunately, I wouldn't put it past myself to join a dating site, particularly under the influence of sweet, sweet alcohol. But how would that explain the Asian art and flight itinerary? Did I already agree to meet someone after a brief look at their profile or something without knowing squat about them? I don't think I'm _that _crazy. At least I hope not…

Alongside the image is the mission statement, which I read:

_E-Z Choice(tm) is dedicated to improving your quality of life. Having come to us through thorough background checks and extensive interviews, we are able to provide you with your perfect partner. Please browse through our spouse catalog to find your mate today or contact E-Z Choice for information on how _you_ can become a member!_

I stare at the print, gaping. What the hell?! _Spouse_ catalog? What is this, the modern age's answer to the mail-order bride?! No way. No _way! _This is- this _can't_ be! This must be some sort of joke. There is no way in this _universe_ I'd order myself a wife!

But then… that package… It has a flight itinerary.

Jumping to my feet, I make another mad dash for the kitchen this time, slipping and stumbling _again_ through the hallway, swearing horribly enough to make the paint peel. Skylar goes into another barking frenzy as I scramble past her and I ignore it.

A joke. A _joke!_ It _must_ be…

I grab the letter I had tossed aside and read it with shaking hands. I can tell that it's one of those prefabricated things that all someone has to do to make it personal is plug my name in the blanks. _Anyway…_ E-Z Choice thanks me for making my purchase. They ask that I please arrive at the airport half an hour early for any changes in the flight and to make good use of the provided 'greeting package'. (The artwork, I guess?) And they wish my new spouse and me the utmost happiness.

Gaping at the letter in hand, I slump weakly into the nearest chair. I push my hand through my hair, in complete and utter shock.

Christ on a cracker… I'm _married!?_

I've done some stupid things in my life—really, what human hasn't? But this—_this _takes the cake!

Duo Maxwell, you are a colossal idiot. Wait. I don't think idiot even begins to describe it.

I press my fingers to my temple, unable to believe what I've done. How am I going to deal with this? I can't handle a wife. Hell, I don't like girls romantically in the first place!

Grabbing the flight itinerary off the table, I look over it once more. It seems that my new bride will be arriving on Wednesday. Two days from now… Not a lot of time to figure out how I'm going to get myself out of _this_ conundrum.

I guess… I guess I'll just have to meet with her and tell her it is all just a big misunderstanding. Hopefully, she won't be too upset. I mean the poor thing must've become a mail-order bride as a last resort. And not to mention she'd be coming halfway across the world… Maybe I can hook her up with a straight friend of mine. Or something?

Yes! That's _exactly_ what I'll do! Apologize profusely, offer some sort of compensation, and introduce her to a straight friend. It's genius. She can't be _too_ mad at me for that, can she? Hey, maybe I can even be her gay best friend? Girls like that, right? Hilde does, anyway…

Although… I _do_ recall hearing a saying that went 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned'. Hilde had a fondness for muttering it when she found men (namely me) particularly irksome.

Ugh! I can see it now: Gay Graphic Designer Murdered by Mail-Order Bride…

I can't believe I'm doing it. I can't believe I'm _actually_ doing it. I'm _really_ going to pick up my supposed wife. I must be crazy. Distractedly, I glance at the heavy Asian sign lying in the passenger seat of my car. The sunlight striking the white board is bright, making the sign even more menacing.

Let's try completely and utterly crazy, shall we?

If I were a more loathsome individual, I'd leave the woman stranded at the airport and just go on with my life. But no. It would bother me for the rest of my life if I did something so cruel. Damn my idiot conscience! It _really_ gets me into trouble when I've already gotten myself in trouble…

And unfortunately, despite all my wishing (and defying all logic, to be honest), rush-hour traffic flows smoothly. Dammit. Looks like I'll make it to the airport on time…

Concentrating on work today was pretty much impossible so I gave myself the day off. Which I'll probably regret tomorrow but it was better to give up than to spend hours in the future fixing my mistakes. So instead I spent my free time hardcore-cleaning my house- something I only do when I get really anxious. Usually I don't pick up a duster more than once a month or less.

See, I don't know if she'll want to come home with me or if she'll understand enough to grab a hotel instead. I guess it's better to be safe. I don't know. She's coming over on a land-based plane, so I can assume she's not from the colonies. It's both good and bad. This way I can't judge what she'd think of me, originating from L-2. Damn… it just makes me even more nervous!

God, I hope I was sober enough to pick a girl who likes dogs… I mean, if she chooses to come back with me, that is.

God this is _nuts!_ _I'm_ nuts!

I see the airport exit coming up and I easily slip into the right lane. Dammit again! Rush hour is _never_ this easy to navigate through. Usually I have to fight tooth and nail to switch lanes, swearing with every foul word ever invented. Probably flipping off a car or two. (I am not a very patient driver.) I swear that time and space are rushing to the moment where I meet my so-called wife just to spite me!

And there it is. The airport looms in front of my little car and me like some sort of monstrous… airporty… monster. I swallow hard as my stomach turns itself into knots. Oh shit I'm going to be sick…

To say I'm nervous is an understatement. I'm a fucking wreck, if you haven't noticed. Feeling queasy and numb, I somehow manage to pay the parking fee, pull into the parking lot, and grab the stupid sign before making my way to the entrance. I swear I hear the funeral march escorting me along, but it must be my imagination.

People would freak if they heard that on their way into an airport…

I don't think I can handle this. I really don't think I can.

According to the schedule over the ticket counter, my wife's plane should be arriving at Gate 11A on time. All right then! I head deeper into the building, dodging tearful lovers, screaming children and their stressed out parents, and impatient business people. The airport is enormous. I've never actually been here myself, so I take my time to look around as I search for Gate 11A. The interior is pretty neat, with sculpture of a trio of planes shooting off into the distance. A few pictures grace the walls, of first airplanes and famous pilots. There are also a few kiosks about the history of air travel and even the carpet has little planes printed on it. I'm not trying to waste time. Not at all…

Christ, this sign is getting heavy. I shift it around restlessly as I further wander the airport. All right then. Now that my airport curiosity has been sated, where _is_ this gate? Are they always this hard to find?

Ah! There's an employee! Maybe she can help me get out of this maze! I flag her down and scuttle over as quickly as I can with such a bulky package. "Hey," I gasp, feeling so out of shape though I can't possibly be this bad off, "can you tell me where I can find Gate 11A?"

She beams brightly. "Certainly!" Damn, but she's perky! She must be new. No one I've ever known in a service job is this happy after a few months. "Head down that terminal. Turn left. After the bathrooms, turn right. Left by the coffee bar, left by Gate 5B, then straight on past the gift shop. Then turn right after the bathrooms there. You can't miss it!" She says it all in one breath, which astounds me. And I thought _I _talked fast… Then they must page her because I hear a muffled call over the intercoms and she says a cheery 'oh, that's me!' before disappearing into a crowd. I blink a few times, wondering if she was even there to begin with.

Can't miss it… _Right…_ Hefting the sign further under my arm, I trudge on. Now what did she say? Turn… left? Okay… and… Bathrooms. Bathrooms… There they are. Now what? Next is… right, right? No… maybe it was left? Was there two bathroom stops? Or three? Or was it past two bathrooms? Dammit, I've never had a head for directions… Maybe I should've written it down.

On what, you big ox? The Sign o' Doom?

With a groan of frustration, I make a right, hoping that… well, it's right.

Of _course_ it was wrong. Who would I be if I got directions right the first dozen tries? I finally manage to find Gate 11A but I'm ten minutes late. Just my luck that my so-called wife is on the _one_ plane that arrives on time. I glance around anxiously for a sign of some woman, some _pissed off _woman waiting for me, though I don't know why I'm getting so worked up over it. This was all a big mistake anyway, and I hope that after this brief meeting we won't have the misery of meeting again.

But I don't see anyone. Any POWW, I mean. (That would be pissed-off-waiting-woman.) Maybe she's at the baggage claim? Better yet, maybe she didn't come! While I'd curse her for making me waste time on the drive and ridiculous airport navigation, I'd certainly praise her judgment. A women's intuition is something you don't second-guess, or so it has been in my experience. I guess I'll give her some time to find me, if she _did _come. After all, I was late. I can at least extend the same courtesy.

Finding a windowsill, I sit on it, with the sign propped on my lap, draping over it to stay mostly upright. Hey, I'm tired, okay? And the way the sun beats warmly on my back, I could probably fall asleep right here…

And I think that's just what I'm doing because there is no _way_ that gorgeous hunk of man would walk towards me in real life.


	4. The Adonis

**Special Delivery**

**Chapter 4: _The Adonis_**

Nice snug blue jeans, a black shirt, and a tailored jacket, with tousled brown hair—this guy must be a _god…_ And he's still walking towards me. Oh _please_ Murphy, if you have any compassion for me at all, don't wake me from this dream!

With a yelp of surprise, I suddenly slip from the sill but manage to catch myself before I hit the ground. Not without practically wrenching my shoulder out of its socket, however. The pain makes me realize that this is so _not_ a dream. Oh God…

I think Murphy loves me… Hell, I think I love Murphy!

The sign clatters to the floor and Mr. Sex-on-Legs stops and looks at it, then me. Remarkably, I'm too startled to be embarrassed. I stare stupidly at him, mouth probably agape, inviting the flies to populate. I say '_probably_ agape' because he distracts me too well to pay attention to _myself_. His hair, which just _begs _for fingers to run through it, hangs messily over gorgeous, perfect, wonderful blue eyes. Can you tell I'm an eye guy?

But… don't most Asian people have dark eyes? Unless he has a non-Asian parent? I don't really know genetics all that well; I took Astronomy as my required science in college, not biology or whatever. Wait a second. Asian?

Does that mean _he's_ my… I glance down at the sign, and then back at the guy in front of me, who has yet to say a word. Did I really… This time I actually do slip to the floor. And I still can't stop staring at him.

This guy, this _Adonis_… _he's_ my _wife?!_

Oh, I think I've died and gone to heaven.

The Adonis crouches and picks up the sign with such cat-like grace I think I'm going to swoon. He reads the sign, then rolls his eyes, frowning.

And I freeze. Oh shit… if he's Asian… what if he can't speak English? The only Asian word I know is '_sayonara_', which is like… goodbye in, what, Japanese? Far from telling this guy goodbye, I'd much rather tell him what I'd like to _do_ to him…

My mind goes completely blank when The Adonis looks at me again. My mouth feels so dry. I have to force myself to mimic the action of swallowing several times before I manage to work out a very eloquent "uhhh…"

_That _opens the floodgates. Unfortunately.

"So uh… hi! Um… I don't know what you were expecting, but you weren't at _all_ what I was expecting. Which, I mean, is a good thing. I mean, because I'm gay. Then again, you might not be gay. Good point… Really, I thought I might've ordered myself a wife because I was kind of drunk at the time, which is kind of stupid, but you are _so_ not a woman. And I ramble when I'm nervous—listen to me go! Talk, talk, talk! Ah hah… Do you even speak English?"

_Yeah…_ That was a _great_ start… Open mouth, insert whole damned leg.

The Adonis stares at me for a moment and then says something, gesturing to the sign. By the tone of his voice, I _think_ he asked a question. So much for hoping he was just shy…

Shit. Where is a translator when you need one?

Nervously, I laugh as I get to my feet, patting my rear free of imaginary dust. "Um… I'm here… to pick you up." I search for some sign of understanding, though I don't really expect it.

He says something again.

Dammit! Why do I have such horrible luck!? I meet such a god and we can't even understand one another! Curse you Murphy and your unreasonable laws! Curse _me_ for not taking a Japanese class in college just in case.

"I'm… here… for… you," I say, pointing to myself, then the sign, then him. However, I don't think my pathetic attempt at sign language will work. So it doesn't surprise me when the Adonis gives me a weird look. I then go into an elaborate display of miming him following me to my car, us driving to my house, him carrying his things into my house—basically making myself look like a complete ass. Not that _that's_ anything new. A few passersby even giggle.

Something must've made sense in my little interpretive dance because he picks up his bag and motions for me to lead the way. Well, that's one hurdle cleared, I guess. I certainly don't have to worry about turning down a wife.

Aw crap… Is it asking too much to hope he's gay?

The Adonis silently follows me from the terminal. I can feel his gaze boring into the back of my skull and it makes me want to squirm. I'm too embarrassed to look at him to tell him to stop… or to insist he follow through on what the look might suggest. I don't know why I'm so embarrassed. It's not like he'd understand me anyway.

Despite the language barrier, I can already tell that he's very intense. Most of the guys I've previously dated were laid back like me so… this will be interesting, to say the least. Visions of The Adonis standing over me in heeled boots, brandishing a whip fills my head and I shudder. That certainly wasn't something I needed to see!

We head out to my car and, taking his luggage, I toss it in my trunk without a word of thanks from him. Without a word of _anything_, in fact. And then we climb into the car. Time for the dreaded drive home. Oh God… this is going to be a nightmare! I'm not quiet by nature. I love to talk. I love to socialize. It's going to be one silent ride if the Adonis doesn't speak any English. Hell, at this point I'll take any language to simply fill the void.

You'd think that with all the extensive research they claimed they did on their 'spouse' choices, E-Z Choice would know better than to send a poor non-English speaking person to someone who can only speak English (well, and a little Spanish— about three years in high school). To be so far away from home and not even know the language would be so depressing.

Then again, I was the one who made the choice, apparently. I guess I took one look at his picture and decided I didn't care if he spoke English. Yeah, I can see how that happened.

I wonder if he has a name. Well, I mean I _know_ he has a name, but I wonder what it is. I can't keep calling him 'the Adonis'. Well, I _could…_ But imagine how it would look at the grocery story: 'Hey! The Adonis! Do you want blueberry waffles or plain?'

I peek at him as he climbs into the passenger side of my car. He looks more like that 'Screw waffles! I eat chumps like you for breakfast!' kind of guy.

"So!" I begin cheerfully as I pull out of the parking lot. "You got a name?"

He doesn't answer. I cast him a sidelong glance. He's leaning forward in the seat, staring out the windshield at various signs we pass. Like a little kid.

I smile, despite the silence between us. His actions are really cute. Then I glance at him again. He's leaning back against the seat now, eyes closed. Shit… He looks _really _familiar, though I can't place where I've seen him before. I'm pretty sure I'd remember meeting such a _god…_

Well, I _probably _saw his picture before I, uh, ordered him. That would make his face a familiar one. Christ, I need to remember to think with my brain once in a while.

Facing forward again, I wonder just what happened to make him apply as a spouse for E-Z Choice. It _can't_ be because he can't get a date. He probably had a million girlfriends (or, with any luck, boyfriends) back home and a million more clamoring to be by his side.

"So… I hope you like this place. I mean, if you choose to stay," I begin, more in a pathetic attempt to fill the silence than anything else. "I can't make you stay, of course. It's not like we're married. Or are we? I don't remember signing any marriage certificates or saying any vows or anything. Not that vows are technically necessary in this day and age, not with the advent of the drive-thru marriage. But, I mean… You think a website like that would ask whether or not you're completely trashed before getting married, to prevent surprises. That makes sense, don't you think? I'm pretty sure I would've answered that honestly."

The Adonis doesn't say a word. I glance at him. His eyes are still closed. Maybe he fell asleep? It had to be a long flight and from what I hear, jet lag's a bitch. I wonder if he'd mind me stopping by the library to see if they have any books like Japanese for the Everyday Dumbass.

Traffic has returned to normal- meaning it's that crawling awful rush hour bullshit I hate driving through. But I refrain from swearing and insulting idiot drivers… well okay, I'm just quieter about it. The Adonis _is _(possibly) sleeping right now. Don't want to wake His Gorgeousness up. At least not until I can figure out what to do with him.

Oh Mommy, can I keep him?

--

It's dusk when I finally pull into my drive. The Adonis pretty much slept the entire time, or so I'd guess considering he hasn't opened his eyes once. Unless he died, of course. But the Adonis opens his eyes, proving he's not dead, and gives my little house an appraising look.

"It's not much," I babble unnecessarily. "This whole county is pretty pricey, what with property tax and all, so this is all I can afford. But the neighbors are pretty decent." We climb out of my car and I pop the trunk, hauling his bags out. I smile when he takes them from me, but he doesn't respond in kind. Is he a tight ass or what?

"Hello Duo!" calls Ms. Ivers from the middle of her little flower garden.

I respond in kind, giving her a wave and a pleasant smile. And I try not to laugh. Is it just me or is she checking the Adonis out? Ms. Ivers, you sly fox!

Fishing my key out of my pocket, I lead the way up the walk and open the door. Skylar comes tearing out to greet me, barking ecstatically. Ooh… I hope he likes dogs.

"Hey there girl!" I scrub her head as she gives me a sloppy kiss on the cheek. "Sit. _Sit._" I grab her collar and press her back end until she sits before she can set her sights on the Adonis. The last thing I need is for him to think she's an attack dog.

"If you want to dump your things in my living room, I'll start something for dinner, I guess," I say, grabbing Skylar's favorite squeaky ball from the corner of my doorway. "Anything you want to eat?" Ah… why am I even asking him this? He's not going to understand me anyway!

"Dog sounds good."

I snort, distracting Sky by throwing the ball down the hallway. She's horrible at fetch, so I know once she grabs it, she'll settle down to chew on it for a while. "All right bucko, there are a lot of things I'll eat but _dog-_" I whirl around, staring at the Adonis in shock. "Holy shit, you speak English!?"


	5. Engrish?

**Special Delivery**

_AN: The spat over Duo's name makes a little more sense if you've seen GW in Japanese. You'll understand exactly how his name sounds. And yes, Heero's name is intentionally misspelled in the beginning.  
_

**Chapter 5: _Engrish?_**

The Adonis calmly watches as I spaz out.

"English… you speak English?" I repeat weakly.

"Well, yes. I've studied it since primary school."

"And you just _let_ me make an ass out of myself?!" I yelp.

He shrugs. "It was… funny. _You _were the one who assumed I didn't speak English."

I make a wild gesture in the air with both hands. "The sign had Asian words on it! Nothing else! What was I supposed to think!?"

He shrugs again. "I apologize then." But he doesn't look or sound very sorry.

I glare at him. What _nerve._ "So, am I allowed to assume you have a _name?_"

"Of course."

I wait for a further response, but he doesn't give it. Okay, now he's being an ass on purpose. "_And?_ What is it?"

"Yuy Hero. Ah… No… _Here_ it would be Hero Yuy."

"Well, which is it?"

He rolls his eyes heavenward, as if asking 'why me?' "My family name is Yuy. My personal name is Hero."

What kind of name is Hero? Will he save me if I get stuck up a tree? "So I should call you Hero then?"

He gives me a look. "Firstly, it's _Heero_. Secondly, no."

"Okay, _Heeeeeroooo. _Why not?"

"Do you know nothing outside your own culture?" he asks, voice oozing exasperation.

"Excuse me for living! I wasn't expecting a Chinese wife!"

"Japanese! I'm Japanese! And I am not a woman, so I clearly am not your _wife._"

"Fine, whatever! A Japanese _husband._ So _why_ can't I call you Heero?"

"Personal names are just that. Only those close to you, such as family members and those who have known you for years are traditionally allowed to use them."

"Well, we're married aren't we, _Heero?_" I reply snidely. Yes, I emphasize his name for the purpose of irritating the hell out of him.

"That remains to be seen."

I give him a skeptical look. "You mean you don't know either?"

"You're not the only one who gets drunk and does foolish things."

I snort in disbelief. Him, drunk? He doesn't strike me as a drinker but… all right. I'll give him _that_. It doesn't answer why he came, unless he got on the plane drunk as well. Though I'm beginning to see why he wasn't married already. His personality sucks balls.

"So what do I call _you?_"

"Well _don't _call me late for dinner!" I joke, trying my damnedest to stomp out the lit fuse of my short temper with humor. But he doesn't laugh. He just stares blankly at me. I guess he doesn't get it. Damn, bad personality and horrible sense of humor. Either that, or humor just doesn't translate. Did I get the short end of the stick or what? Just great.

Murphy, I hate you!

With a sigh, I reply "Duo Maxwell. First name: Duo. Last name: Maxwell." And then I add magnanimously: "You may call me Duo. I promise I won't be offended." I punctuate the statement with a grandiose flourish of my arm.

He rolls his eyes. Well, at least he gets sarcasm. "All right. Duo."

"No, _Du_o."

"That's what I said. Duo."

"No, it's not _Dyoh_. It's Duuuuo! With an 'oo-oo-oo' sound!"

He gives me a hard look. "That's what I said. Dyohhh."

"No, you're not listening."

"Were you dropped on your head as a child?" he asks irritably.

"Shut up!"

He slowly repeats my name a few more times (wrongly, I might add!) before he nods in satisfaction. "Duo Maxwell…" Dyoh Maxuwerru? There are no R's or U's in my name, dammit! "That's an odd name."

"And the world is round. Tell me something I _don't _know. Anyway, _anything_ sounds odd if you say it the way _you_ do."

"I say it how you say it."

"I _don't_ say it like that."

"Well, have you considered that, because I'm Japanese and therefore have the accent, it just sounds different to your idiot ears? I'm sure you couldn't say-" and he spits off something in Japanese.

Oh… Maybe. But I won't give him that! Not for that less-than-veiled insult. "Why would I want to say th_at? _Besides, I'm not an idiot. I have _two_ college degrees, I'll have you know-"

"Degrees don't make you a genius."

I glare at him again. "Just… just shut up!" I press a hand to my forehead. I swear I feel a headache coming on. Taking a deep breath, I finally continue. "All right. If you're staying, there's a guest room down the hall, first door on the right. Dump your shit there." Whirling on my heel, I stomp for the kitchen. "I'll start dinner. And it won't be dog!"

Despite the fact that I don't think he meant for me to hear it, I hear him mutter, "I don't actually eat dog, fool." Well that's a relief. I don't have to worry about him being alone with my precious pooch.

I scowl. For such a fine looking man, Heero Yuy, or… how was it? Yuy Heero, His Royal Pain in the Ass? Anyway, for such a fine looking man, he is _quite_ the dickhead.

From the freezer I grab a frozen pizza and a box of equally frozen cheesy garlic toast. I hope he's not expecting five-star dining. I don't feel up to making anything decidedly more edible. As I wait for the oven to heat up, I wander into the living room where Heero is seated on the sofa, flipping through one of the graphic design magazines I subscribe to.

When he doesn't open his mouth he's quite a vision to behold.

"So uh… find your room okay?" I ask, not that it should've been hard, with a house this small. I'm just taking another stab at civil conversation.

"Yes, thank you," he replies with formal politeness.

Awkwardly, I take the recliner adjacent to the sofa. Skylar is dozing with her head on the Jerky Adonis' feet. It makes me smile. "Dog doesn't bother you, does she?"

He glances down at her and then, with a little frown, shakes his head. "No, she's fine."

"She seems to like you."

"I find a lot of animals do."

"But people are another question, eh?" I joke. But instead of laughing, he glares at me. I hold my hands up defensively. "I was only kidding. Yeesh."

With a hum, he glances down at Skylar again. "What kind of dog is she?"

"Mutt," I reply with a shrug. "I rescued her from the pound. I think she's got mostly Labrador blood in her. She kind of looks like a Lab, anyway. She's my baby." Whistling, I pat my knee. Skylar opens a sleepy eye, yawns hugely, and settles back down to go to sleep. "Well, usually she's my baby. She's not terribly well-trained."

He hums again and that initial awkwardness reigns. I jump, startled, when I hear the oven beep, signaling that it's at prime pizza-cooking temperature. Lurching to my feet, I hurry back to the kitchen, slap the frozen delights onto a couple pans (making plenty of noise as I do so), and shove them into the oven.

I lean against the oven, contemplating what to do now. I'd bet my life savings that the grumpy god on my couch is doing the same. Is he going to stay? What will I do if he decides to leave? Hell, what will I do if he decides to stay? Will he actually come with me to my high school reunion?

I choke on the thought. Oh shit… the reunion. Quatre and Trowa… I stare at the kitchen door, in the general direction of my living room. Where the god awaits… Shit, shit, shit! What the _hell_ am I going to do? _Bring _him? I hardly know the guy. I'm not so sure I could pull off pretending that we've been longtime lovers…

Turning to the cabinet, I pull out a couple plates.

I can't even begin to imagine Quatre's reaction if I told him we could possibly be married. All I know is it would involve a lot of glaring, possibly the silent treatment. I am pretty sure, however, that he'd disown me as a friend for not inviting him. Heh… That should make the Cradle Robber happy!

"Do you need any help?"

Yelping loudly (and embarrassingly), I look back to see the grumpy god standing right behind me. Closer than he should be, yet not close enough. Damn, I didn't even hear him approach. Well… ninja do come from Japan, don't they?

"Were you- I mean, don't sneak up on a man when he's lost in thought!" Shit! The train of thought didn't stop at Brain Station… I seriously almost asked him if he was a ninja! Even I'm not stupid enough to think that just because he's from Japan, he's a ninja.

"Sorry," he apologizes in that 'I'm-not-really-sorry-because-I-don't-really-care' way of his. You know, that's really kind of irritating.

I give him a stern look and then shake my head. "No, I don't need help. I've got it all under control. Besides, you're my… guest." For lack of a more logical word…

"Technically, I might be your spouse."

"_Technically…_" I turn towards him, leaning against the counter, and fold my arms over my chest. "Well, technically, are you even _gay?_"

Heero crosses his arms as well, arching a brow at me. After a long pause, he asks why. Did it really take him that long to figure out the answer? Is the answer no? Damn it all to Hell! Anyway, why do I even care? His personality is crap. That's all that matters, right? Am I so shallow that I like him for looks alone? I cast him a sidelong glance… It seems we have a 'yes', Houston.

"Why? Because—because I don't want to get in_volved_ with some straight guy who's just… doing a little experimenting or something and will ditch me for the next leggy blonde that struts by." Chris (the ex that dumped me for the strawberry blonde bodybuilder) comes to mind and I scowl a little.

"Well, being gay won't stop that from happening."

Touché.

Ass.

"Yeah well… I don't want to have this conversation anymore." Mostly because my river of retorts has been dammed by the grumpy god before me. "If you want to help, get drinks or something. I'll have a beer."

"Are you sure that's your choice?"

Well continue to irritate me, why don't you? "Yes. Why?"

"Didn't that bring us to this situation?"

I cringe. Touché again.


	6. Maybe It’s the Rhodododos

**Special Delivery**

_AN: Gah! Sorry for the ridiculously long wait!_

**Chapter 6: _Maybe It's the Rhodododos_**

Ever have that feeling where you just _know _the day is going to go right? I wake up to another bright and sunny day with exactly that feeling nestled in my chest. Swinging my legs over the edge of my bed, I leave my room with a smile on my face and a song in my heart as I head for the kitchen to start a pot of coffee.

Okay, yes. That's all ridiculously overdramatic. But I'm still in a damned fine mood.

Skylar trots merrily beside me, waiting for me to fill her food dish. So, of course, I oblige her. And with the dog fed and the coffee running, I stand before the open pantry to debate my breakfast choices. Shall I take Wheaties, the breakfast of champions? Or sweet sugary death—aka Lucky Charms? Ah, what the hell. I feel like a champion today. Grabbing the box of Wheaties, I turn from the pantry and promptly drop the box, yelping at sight of a sweaty, godly body in gray sweats and a black tank top that clings to his chest just so, standing outside the entryway of the kitchen.

Hello Good Day Sign Number Two.

Heero casts me a glance, stretching one arm overhead. I try to ignore the flexing of muscle in his arm as I snatch the cereal box off the floor.

Dude's awake and active already? Me, I would've indulged in a few more hours of sleep if I had the choice.

"Are you always this easily startled?" he asks.

"Only when something appear where I'm not used to seeing anything." I sneak another peek at him as he turns and pulls his foot back in a quad stretch. "You run?"

"Yes. Daily."

"And you didn't get lost?"

The look on his face pretty much screamed 'me? Get lost?'

Well how fine for him. "How far did you go?" I ask, pouring the cereal into a bowl and dousing it liberally with milk. My own jogs usually just take me around a block or two. I don't really like running. I never have. I prefer to get my exercise in through kickboxing or swimming. Or sex, should the opportunity arise…

Heh heh…

He's thoughtfully quiet for a second or two. "About eight kilometers, I guess."

Eight k… Eight k… that's close to five miles, isn't it? If I remember right… I choke. For a morning jog? "You're endurance must be through the roof," I say before I can stop myself. The image that conjures sends my mind happily splashing through the gutter.

He gives me a strange look. "I guess."

I turn away and grope for a spoon in the utensil drawer before I can make any further blunders. "Care for breakfast?"

"I already ate."

Already? I glance at the clock. 7:18. "What time did you get up?" I ask, looking back at him skeptically.

"5:30, I guess."

"That's crazy!"

"I'm used to it."

I snort. "Insomniac, much?"

Again, he shrugs. "Maybe."

Maybe? What kind of answer is that? Unfortunately, all that follows is more silence.

My breakfast of champions is probably getting soggy, but wolfing down soggy flakes in front of such a guy would probably just confirm whatever negative stereotypes he thinks about us crazy Americans. That, and I guess I'm just feeling a little shy. Hey, it can happen.

"Well, I'm going to take a shower," he finally says. "If that's all right?"

Out of the gutter, you dirty mind you! "Sure," I squeak like some pre-teen boy who just walked in on his best friend's sister bathing. Or brother, in my case. Heat rises in my cheeks, I can feel it. Clearing my throat, I add, "Towels are in the cabinet under the sink. Pink towel is Skylar's, so don't use it."

He gives me a strange look and heads down the hall. Yes she has her own towel. Yes I spoil my dog. So what?

Craning my neck, I watch that fine, fine ass disappear into the bathroom before returning to the kitchen to dump my cereal into the sink. All the jittery feelings he's given me has pretty much shot my appetite, though I know I'll regret forgoing my breakfast later if I choose to go in for work today.

Skylar, who didn't have to worry about grumpy, sexy men waltzing about, finished her breakfast in record time and is now waiting impatiently by the door to go out and do her business. I, of course, oblige my dear doggy once again. I don't want a mess on my floor and I have nothing better to do at the moment. Heero has confiscated my shower and we're not at the point in our relationship where I can _join_ him.

'_Splash! Splash! Splash!_' My mind plays happily in the gutter. I crouch down to the ground as Skylar takes care of business so no one can see just how excited Duo II got just at the mere thought of joining McHotness in the shower. _Damn_ but I need to get laid!

I plop down onto the grass, laughing as Skylar bounds over to me and straight into my lap. After, of course, a careful shift in weight so she doesn't … you know… step on the 'happy goods' or anything.

"You know, maybe I shouldn't go in to work today, what with the arrival of Oscar the Grouch." I scratch Skylar's head thoughtfully as she tries to wriggle her way further onto my lap. "What do you think? Of course, I still have a lot of shit to make up, considering Hilde basically went AWOL, but I _do_ fear he still might try to make doggy flambé out of you should I leave His Ninjaness here alone with you."

Skylar gives me several sloppy kisses on the face, which makes me laugh again. "Is that a yes? Does Sky want daddy to stay home?" I croon.

With a joyous yelp, she leaps off my lap and sinks to her forepaws, tail wagging enthusiastically. I take that as a 'yes'. Or a 'Playtime! Playtime! Playtime!'

My happy erection abated, I get to my feet and grab a stray tennis ball lying in the grass. With another bark, Skylar spins in a circle and sinks down again, eyes fixed on the tennis ball. Grinning, I throw the ball and watch as she bounds crazily after it. She hasn't mastered the feat of catching the ball mid-air, but at least she brings it back to me when she gets it. For the longest time, she'd simply lie down and start chewing on the ball once she reached it.

She sprints at me and drops the now-slimy ball at my feet, tongue lolling with enthusiasm. I grin and crouch down, scratching her head. "Who's a good girl? Who's a _good girl?_" I croon.

A shadow falls over the two of us and I glance over my shoulder to see The Adonis watching, hands stuffed in the pockets of snug fitting jeans. With damp hair hanging in his gorgeous eyes, backlit by the morning sun, I nearly come in my pants. Damn him and his unreal gorgeousness…

I hold up the slimy ball. "Want to play?" I manage to ask in a completely normal tone, though that phrase alone happily sends my mind back into the gutter.

After a moment, he takes the ball from my hands and chucks it across the yard. Skylar sprints after it.

"So, Heero," I begin, taking great pains to pronounce his name as close as possible to the way he did yesterday, "what are your plans?"

The Adonis crouches next to me, maintaining impeccable balance even as Skylar practically bounds back into his lap to return the ball. "Plans for what?"

"Your plans. You _know…_" I emphasize my point with an elaborate waving of my hand. "Are you staying?"

After throwing the ball once more, he shrugs. "I guess. If I'm not imposing, of course."

So this gorgeous man is actually agreeing to stay with me? Have I died and gone to a heaven made especially for me? I think I have.

"No. No, it's fine," I reply. A little too hastily, probably. "I mean, there's no way I could leave you stranded in this situation."

Heero bobs his head. "Okay."

An awkward silence passes between us, filling me with dread. Mostly because I tend to fill said silences with nervous chatter that just ends up making me look like a complete moron.

"So uh… what made a guy like you offer yourself up as a spouse for E-Z Choice?" I find myself saying.

"A guy like me?"

"Well… yeah. You're extremely good looking and—and… well, I don't know any other redeeming qualities you might have, but I'm sure there are some." And I _just_ can't stop myself from talking! "You were probably a pretty desirable bachelor back in good old Japan, right? I mean, yeah, okay. So you were drunk when you signed up. But you could've backed out, couldn't you? Unless there was some small print binding contract you were forced to abide by or something."

He's silent for a long time, staring out towards the street. "I… was trying to escape my family," he finally replies. "Among other things, I suppose."

Must be nice having a family to escape _from._ But I don't say this out loud. There will be _plenty _of time for Duo Maxwell's Sob Stories, I'm sure. "Ah," is all I say in response to that because I have to shout "Skylar, get out of Ms. Ivers' rhodododos!" to my dog, who is rooting through Ms. Ivers' garden.

"They're rhodo_dendrons_."

"Hey, _you _say my name wrong," I mutter.

He glares at me.

With a shrug, I continue. "Anyway, I know that and you know that but Skylar doesn't. Besides, I can't say the damned word without it getting twisted around my tongue."

He gives me a strange look. "You could've said flowers. That _does_ include rhododendrons."

"Shut up…" I grumble, mostly because he's right. But I've _always_ called them that!

Another awkward silence passes between us. I bite my tongue hard to keep myself from talking once more, forcing myself to wince instead in pain.

"What about you?"

"What _about_ me?"

"Why did you buy a spouse from that website?"

"I was drunk, I told you."

He gives me a pointed look. "You, too, could've backed out when you figured out what happened."

"Yeah well… by the time I figured out I was getting a spouse, I'd received the information that my 'wife'-" At this he gives me a dirty look. "-would be on the way in a couple of days."

Heero arches a brow at me. "It took you that long to figure it out?"

"I was busy!" I reply indignantly. "And… okay, so I'm a bit absent-minded as well. Is that such a crime?"

"How do you manage to work being that absent-minded?"

I make a very big mess. I think this man would cry at the state of my office. He seems like the 'I-like-things-in-perfect-order' type.

"So… have you ever been here before?"

"To your house?"

"Of course not, dumbass. I meant in this state! Or country!"

"Yes. Both. A few times."

I blink. "Really?"

"Yes."

"Business or pleasure?" Ah, what I would give to be able to afford to travel freely!

"Business, mostly."

"Really?"

He gives me another one of those weird looks. "Is what I say really that unbelievable?"

"Oh, sorry. It's just an automatic response, I guess."

He hums.

"So… what do you do?"

"For work?"

"Obviously."

With a glare, he explains how he works for some company his father runs. He doesn't elaborate much Apparently he's being groomed to be the company's next president.

I whistle appreciatively. So the bastard is probably rich… "Sounds nice."

"Mmm." He nods in a vague sort of way.

Is it just me or does he look a little miserable just now? I blink and his expression is as plain as ever. Hmm. Maybe I just imagined it.

"Skylar, get out of those damned rhodododos!"

She barks enthusiastically and comes bounding back towards us.

"Rhododendrons," Heero says as she crashes straight onto his lap. He wrestles her down enough so that he can pet her without being molested by the overjoyed doggy. Traitorous pooch. Loving any living, breathing being like that. She makes a miserable guard dog.

"I _know!_" With an exaggerated roll of my eyes, I ask, "Are you going to be like this for_ever?!_"

"Maybe."

I look at him, startled. He flashes me a faint smirk. Holy shit, I think my heart just stopped. Was that _flirting?_


	7. Squidghetti and Twenty Questions

**Special Delivery**

_AN: Wow… sorry about the long, long, long wait!_

**Chapter 7: _Squidghetti__ and Twenty Questions_**

I'm just innocently clearing out old issues of Innovative Design Monthly from a basket near my favorite squashy chair when I get the strange sensation that my braid is floating. I reach back to see if I'm simply delusional when Heero suddenly says, "Your hair is very long."

With a lurch, I turn hastily and catch a glimpse of my braid slipping from his hands. I wince when it hits my back with a heavy '_thwap_'.

"Hey now… no touching the hair unless there is a ring on this finger," I joke, waving my left hand about in a weak attempt to cover up just how much his hair-grabbing startled me. It's a really stupid joke, obviously, but I… hmm… Well, I have no excuses for it.

The Adonis gives me a peculiar look.

"It's—it's just a joke," I explain lamely. Come on man… don't make me feel even more idiotic by _believing_ me!

"Ah." He studies me (or my hair, more likely) for a moment.

Maybe he's contemplating whether or not he should buy me a ring? Hah! What a wild imagination I have!

"Got a hair fetish?" I ask with a smirk. I'm used to such guys. Hey, who wouldn't be with hair as long and well-maintained as mine? I don't mean it arrogantly, just that… well, it's true so give me a break!

"Well, I didn't think so."

I stare at him for a moment. He didn't _think _so? Which means that maybe he does now? Oh lordy lordy _lordy__…_ Is this a bad sign? Hopefully he doesn't dance on the creepy side of the hair fetish… I've dealt with enough of _those_ weirdoes to last a lifetime.

Thankfully, the smell of dinner distracts me enough from inquiring further. Sometimes, inquiring minds _don't _need to know. But just in case he gets any weird ideas I pull my braid over my shoulder, where I can see it and hopefully keep it safe.

"Did… did you start dinner?" I ask.

"Yes."

I sigh, touched and frustrated at the same time. "You didn't have to, Heero. You're my…" My what? My guest? My spouse? My whore? Well, if he's my whore then I'm not getting what I paid for! Er… I mean… Wow, where did _that_ come from, eh?

I sniff the air again. Something smells fishy. And I mean it literally smells _fishy_. "What are you making?" I find myself thanking whatever powers that be for the creation of weird smells.

"Spaghetti." But it sounds like 'spaguhetti'.

I grin. It's kind of cute now that I've accepted the fact he'll probably always call me '_Dyoh_'.

Wait a second. I frown suspiciously. Spaghetti isn't supposed to smell like _fish_. At least not the spaghetti I'm accustomed to eating. I make a beeline for the kitchen.

"I have everything under control," Heero is saying irritably behind me.

Oh, I've no doubt he does.

That was sarcasm for anyone who missed it.

Without a word, I approach the stove and give the spaghetti noodles boiling away in their pot of water a distracted stir as I sniff the air wafting from it. Okay, not the noodles. I glance in the pot where spaghetti sauce simmers. _Pinkish_ spaghetti sauce. Since when is spaghetti sauce pink? Did I unknowingly pick up some weirdly pink spaghetti sauce the last time I went shopping for groceries?

Hastily, I make tracks for the pantry and I emerge with a jar of Prego spaghetti sauce. Unopened and very much tomato red_._ "Heero, if _this_ is the spaghetti sauce, what is that in the saucepan?"

"Sauce for the spaghetti."

"No. No, it's not. That's pink and smells like fish. This, being spaghetti sauce, is red and tomato-y. It may smell like basil and oregano and all that, but it doesn't smell like _seafood._"

He gives me an exasperated look. "It does not have to be made out of tomato paste to be put on spaghetti."

When you're in _my_ house it does! I give the pink sauce a worried look. "Then what exactly _is_ your sauce made of?"

Whatever I was expecting, "squid" was not it.

I gag. "_Squid?!_Where did you get _squid_ sauce?!" Considering I don't make it a habit to pick it up on my trips to the grocery. Hell, I didn't even know such a thing existed. "And _why?_"

"I bought it at the Asian specialty shop off of Wagner," he replies flatly, "because I like it."

I'm too busy obsessing about the sauce to care that he's already discovered the locations of _specialty _shops in this town. "So who told you that you can make spaghetti with squid sauce?" Some weirdo on the cooking channel, maybe? Though I think I would remember him watching TV… He doesn't seem to watch much unless I'm watching it too.

"You can order it that way in Japan." He gives me a look that reads 'obviously'.

I make a face. "Who _does_?"

'_Me, duh!_' reads his face. "I ask this again: do you know _nothing_ outside your culture?"

"I guess not…" Though chastised, I'm still indignant. "But I'll have you know that not all of us are wealthy sons of bitches. Not all of us can afford vacations within the country, let alone to a different country or colony. My world culture comes from… well, media. And we both ought to know what a shady deal that is."

Heero hums. "You've never been outside the country?"

I shrug. "Not since I lived—well, not since I was a little kid."

"Ah."

I stir the sauce again, giving it a critical look. "Well… I'm adventurous enough. I guess I'll give this pink stuff a try."

He arches a brow at me. "Adventurous?"

I flush at the way it sounds coming out of his mouth. Excluding all the extra syllables added, graced by his native tongue. "Well, you have to be to eat squiddy pasta, right?"

"Maybe." Then as an afterthought: "How adventurous would you say you are?"

I'm pretty sure my face is the color of the squid sauce right about now… But I can't help but reply: "How adventurous do you want me to be?"

--

Well… the squidghetti was an interesting trial for my taste buds. I'm _still_ not quite sure what I think of it when I consider it hours later over a bowl of very normal chocolate ice cream.

It was fishy, that's for sure.

Heh heh… nice joke, eh? Aw, just humor me, please?

And Heero never answered my adventurous question, though I got the impression he was thinking about it.

"So… what do you say me and you get to know each other a little better, eh?"

"It's 'you and I'," Heero informs me over his bowl of ice cream.

Yes, yes, I know. I roll my eyes.

"How do you suggest we do this?"

I shrug. "Just ask each other general questions? Like… hmmm, what's your favorite color? Or animal? Or movie? Things like that."

"Green. Falcon. The Hour Before Dawn."

Ugh, war movies? I should've guessed. "Isn't that the movie with that actress Dorothy Cata-something-or-other?"

"Catalonia."

"Yeah. Doesn't she always play the crazy bitch character?"

"I guess." He takes a thoughtful bite of his ice cream. "What about you?"

"I'm not much of an actor myself. Though I imagine I could pull off a crazy bitch rather well."  
He gives me a look and I smirk. "I meant the same questions."

"Of course that's what you meant. Blue. Dog. And… um… hmm, well, Rocky Horror Picture Show. The original, not the remake."

"That movie's ancient."

"Your point?"

Heero shakes his head. "That was it."

I laugh. Nice point. Taking another bite of my ice cream, I point the spoon in his direction. "Your turn."

"I just went."

"Like that counted. All you did was piggy-back my question. That's cheating."

He makes a face at me and I laugh again. "I wasn't aware there were rules."

"Well now you know."

"Anything else I should know?"

I pause thoughtfully and then shake my head. "I'll let you know if anything comes up."

"So you invent the rules as you go."

Grinning, I wink at him. "Pretty much."

"Hmm." He shifts his weight and stares at me for a long moment. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-three."

An eyebrow quirks in my direction.

"Don't believe me?"

"I guess I do. You look younger but everything here suggests you'd be older—what, with running a business and owning your own house."

I shrug. "I just have a friend who hooked me up with the right people."

"This friend must be influential."

"Nah, he's just smart. I mean, he has a lot of money in the bank, but-"

"My point exactly."

I roll my eyes. Good point, I guess, though Quatre doesn't have to rely on money to be an influence. Usually it's those wide, innocent eyes of his. Innocent my ass! "So how old are _you?_"

"No piggy-backing."

"Don't worry, I'm going to ask my own question. It's a good one. So how old _are_ you?"

"Twenty-five."

Hard to say whether he looks that age or not. He's the sort that looks ageless. He could say thirty-five and you'd believe him. He could say fifteen and you'd believe that too. So I just nod. All right, now down to the good questions. "You're not an ax-murderer who's simply trying to lull me into a false sense of security before you chop my head off, are you?"

"No. I find ax-murdering stains the carpets. Arsenic works just as fine."

I throw my head back and laugh. "_Nice._"

Then he smiles—he actually _smiles!_ It's small, hardly perceptible, but oh what a smile it is. If I thought Heero was an Adonis before that was nothing compared to now. I think my brain has taken up a permanent residency in the gutter. And that's perfectly fine by me.


	8. First Date

**Special Delivery**

_AN: Wow… two months… -shame-faced-_

**Chapter 8: First Date**

"Need any help with those, Ms. Ivers?" I call out, trotting across the grass to help my dear neighbor with the last of her groceries.

The sweet old woman beams at me. "Oh thank you, Duo. Why if I were ten years younger…"

I smile, snagging a pair of bags from the backseat of her car. That's her favorite line, by the way, and she uses it whenever I do something I guess she finds particularly charming. "How's Bologna?" I ask, referring to her cat, who Skylar loves to chase whenever Bologna escapes the confines of 'indoors'.

"Oh, he's just fine." I see her glance across the yard and then back at me with a quirked brow of interest. "New _friend_, I see?" Her tone is light and teasing. I glance back as well. Heero has just come out of the house, chatting on his cell phone by the looks of things. Ms. Ivers loves to keep up with the ups and downs in my love life. I'm fully convinced she was a sordid gossip columnist in her youth.

"Ah, yeah." I can't help but smile.

"Now, _he's _a handsome fellow. Why, if I were ten years younger…"

I laugh. "What would you do if you were ten years younger?"

"Use my womanly charms, of course!"

I laugh again, following her into her house. The old lady has some fire in her, that's for sure. First me, then Heero.

Bologna winds around my ankles, arching luxuriously and purring loudly despite the fact I probably smell like Skylar. Sometimes I think he likes it when Sky chases him. Cross-species romance, anyone? Smiling, I set the bag I'm toting on her kitchen table and I crouch to scratch behind his ears.

Setting her own bag on the table, she turns and gives me a stern look as I straighten up. "Is he a nice boy? A good boy?"

"Um, yeah. So far." He's a bit temperamental, but then so am I.

Studying me carefully, she hums. "Bring him over some time. We'll have coffee and I'll decide for myself." She jabs my stomach hard with a bony finger. "You tell him. You tell him that, if he doesn't treat you right, old Ms. Ivers still has her late husband's rifle and she still knows how to use it!"

Again, I laugh. Fire, indeed.

"I'm serious, young man!"

"I know you are." I assure her, fighting a grin. "I'll be sure to tell him."

"Make sure you do."

Bidding Mrs. Ivers good day, I return to my own lawn, where Heero is just snapping his phone shut. His expression is pinched and the muscles in his jaw are working hard.

"Something wrong?"

He frowns and then shakes his head. "Just some nosy individuals."

"Ah. Telemarketers?"

He shrugs as his gaze skips across my yard. "Who is the elderly woman? A relative?"

"Oh, no. I don't have any relatives. That's Mrs. Ivers." Grinning, I elbow him. "I think she's smitten with you."

"Why?"

"Well, it certainly isn't your charming personality."

He gives me a look.

I shrug, still grinning. "Well, she hasn't met you. What do you _want_ me to say?"

Rolling his eyes at my impertinence, he leans against my car. "You don't have any relatives?"

I hop onto the trunk of my car and let my feet dangle off the edge. "Nope."

"Why not?"

Reclining against the back window, I shrug. "Mom got knocked up as a teen by some brainless hack. I got taken away from her when I was… four, I think, because she was always into trouble with drugs and neglect—all that fun stuff. I think she died when I was seven considering I haven't heard anything about her since. She tried to get me back for a while."

"No grandparents or aunts and uncles or anything?"

"Grandparents dead. Mom was an only child, I was told. If I have any other relatives, Social Services couldn't find them."

"Oh. I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be. I'm fine." I wave a hand at him.

He gives me a look.

"What? I _am_ fine."

With a hum, he leans against the car and stares off into the distance for some time. Just when I think he's gone into a trance, he asks, "So where are we going?"

"Huh?"

"You mentioned a 'trip' this morning in your flight out the door," he prompts impatiently.

"Oh!" I sit up abruptly, surprised he was even paying attention then. I was pretty rushed. "Right! Er… well… I have this school reunion coming up and my best friend suckered me into going." A sheepish laugh escapes before I can stop it. "Whether you want to go or not is up to you. I don't want to make you suffer a week with complete strangers if you don't want to."

"I must point out that _we _are complete strangers."

"_Were_," I correct. "We're married acquaintances now."

"Were," he finally agrees. After inhaling deeply and letting the breath out in a deliberate, ponderous way, he asks slowly, "Do you want me to go?"

"Well, like I said… it's your choice."

"Do you want me to go?"

"If you want."

"Do you _want_ me to go?" He sounds grouchy now.

He's so stubborn, like a dog with a bone on this! Of _course _I _want_ him to go but… we're in this… _phase_. Being married acquaintances and all. And 'acquaintance' pretty much sums it up. We haven't dated, haven't done anything that would make us a couple in any sense of the word. Despite the occasional 'game' of twenty questions, we still don't know all that much about each other. I'm not sure if he's all that interested in learning anything about me or even staying with me anyway. I certainly wouldn't want to subject him to my dearest friends if he isn't. "Er… well sure. It'd be nice. Maybe it'd keep my friend from trying to fix me up with the first john he sees on the street."

"Then I will go."

I stare stupidly at him. He agreed to go? So easily? "You will? Dude, you're sure?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because my friends could be ax murders, obviously."

"If that's the case then you're certainly taking your time to lull me into a false sense of security."

I grin, pleased he picked up on the joke and chose to go with it. "That's how the best ones go about doing it."

He snorts. Then asks: "When do we leave?"

"Friday."

"That's in two days."

"Yes. Contrary to popular belief, I _do_ know the days of the week and the order in which they go!"

He makes a face at me. "I meant do you have a plan? Reservations of where we are going to stay, someone to take care of the dog while we're gone, and so on?"

"We don't need reservations because we're staying with my friends—hence the 'subjecting you to my friends' comment. And Sky is coming with us."

"_With_ us?"

"Uh, _yes_."

He glances towards the house, where, somewhere, Skylar lurks. "Has she traveled before?"

Smirking, I slide off the car and slap his shoulder. "Don't worry so much, man." And I turn to go inside. Pausing mid-stride before the front door, I glance over my shoulder. He's still standing by the car, brooding. "By the way," I call out, wondering what in the world is bothering him, "Mrs. Ivers says that if you don't treat me right she'll blow your brains out." I grin, returning the startled look he gives me with a wink before I head into the house.

--

We're doing it. We're actually doing it. Somehow an innocent suggestion to go out for dinner the night before we leave for the reunion has turned into this big—no, _huge—_date fiasco. At least, that's how my mind chooses to categorize it as the rest of me melts into a gelatinous nervous _wreck_. Heero, on the other hand, doesn't seem fazed either way. And he's the ass who _called_ it a date!

Maybe it was just an error in translation on his part? Maybe he wasn't sure how to say 'casual outing' in English, so he chose the next closest word? Or maybe he really meant to say 'date'… _Or_ he could just be toying with me to watch me fall apart for some sort of perverse pleasure.

And _why_ am I falling apart over this? It's not like I'm a novice to first dates. Hell, I'm a seasoned veteran…which probably isn't something I should be admitting with pride. Going out has never drawn such a reaction from me. Maybe it's because I still have no idea how to act around him. Just be myself, right? He's okay with me as I am, right? I mean… he wouldn't still be here if he wasn't… right? Unless his trip here wiped out all his funds. Rich though he may be, if he's living off an allowance of some sort, it's a possibility. His family could've pulled his allowance and he could be flat broke.

"Are you ready?" I hear Heero call outside the bathroom door with a touch of impatience in his voice.

"Er, yeah. Yeah. Sorry." I wrap the end of my braid off and open the door, greeting him with a smile. "This hair takes a while."

"Have you ever thought of getting started earlier?"

"Now why would I do that?"

He rolls his eyes at my cheek and I feel a little more confident.

I grin and toss Skylar a chewy toy on our way out the door.

Unfortunately, my confidence wanes a little as we drive to the restaurant of my choosing. Having suggested the casual dinner as… well, exactly that, I chose a casual place to eat. I guess I could've changed locations when Heero called it a 'date', but the thought didn't occur to me until just now. I curse that my ability to think on my feet leaves me at such crucial moments such as this. Heero, being the rich sonofabitch that he is, probably thinks a date is somewhere high-class. I'm sure he dines regularly at restaurants where the average bear on the street can't pronounce anything on the menu and bloated goose livers is considered low class.

"Howard's?" Heero murmurs as we pull into the parking lot.

"Yup. Best home-cooked food this side of… um… this side."

"Clever."

"Hey, it's my job to come up with designs, not catchy slogans!"

He hums.

"Anyway, the food—it's good." I park and climb out of the car. "So's the atmosphere. I know the owner. He's a nice guy, a little eccentric, but who isn't? Everyone here is a little eccentric but that's what makes it-"

"You're babbling." He gives me a strange look. "Are you uncomfortable?"

"Er…" Dude hit the nail right on the head. "Listen…" I push open the door and gesture for him to go in, stalling for time. "I just—well, you know…"

"Well, well! Look what the cat hacked up!" a familiar voice shouts as I follow him in.

I glance in the direction of said voice. A man with wild gray hair and a crooked nose strides towards me, arms open wide. I grin. "Howie!"

The crazy old man draws me into a tight embrace, whacking me hard enough on the back to dislocate my shoulder. "Where've you been, kid?!" He holds me out at arms length, grinning crazily.

"Busy."

Glancing over my shoulder, his bushy gray brow hikes up and he smirks. "I can tell."

I feel my face grow a little hot. "You know what I mean, man."

He thumps an arm around my shoulders and turns to Heero. "Watch out with this one. He's a slippery little spitfire."

"Oi! I'm standing right here!"

"Hey, just letting the man know what he's gotten himself into. Or should I say _who_?" He snickers at his joke as if it's something clever.

Now I know why people refrain from introducing lovers to family. "Keep talking like that and you'll be wearing dentures, old man!"

He just continues to laugh, shaking his head and waving us further into the restaurant. "Find yourself a seat, boy. Marian will be around to take your orders in a few minutes."

"She's still with you?" Marian is Howard's lover, I guess, and she's about as crazy as he is. They call each other husband and wife but as far as I know, they have never gotten married.

"Don't act so surprised! This old man still knows a trick or two."

I make a face at him and lead the way to my favorite table, which is empty for once, by the window.

"I assume you come here often?" Heero says as he slips into the chair across from me.

I shrug. "I used to work here during college, bussing tables." Marian and Howie used to give me free dinners when funds got tight at the end of the semester. They were the closest thing I had to parents and I was probably the closest thing they had to a son.

Marian arrived a few minutes later, just as Howard said she would, and gushed over me with all the same insinuations the old man made had before finally settling down enough to take our drink orders. And by the time she returns, we're ready to order food.

"Let me guess," she chirps. "You'll have the spicy tortilla soup."

I laugh and nod. "You read my moods well, Marian."

"After five years with a kid like you around, I ought to be able to!" She turns and grins at Heero. "And what will your little friend have?"

I barely resist slapping my hand over my face as Heero places his own order. Little friend, huh?

"Odd," he mutters as she bustles off to the kitchen.

"Aw, come on. That's their charm." If he thinks Howie and Marian are weird, I can only imagine what he'll think of Quatre and Trowa. They just might scare him off.

"I guess I'm not accustomed to it," he says after a long pause.

I tilt my head curiously. That comment makes me wonder what life was like for him back in Japan. So, naturally, I ask.

"Strict, I guess you would say."

"Oh?"

He shrugs and… doesn't elaborate. Wow. Not much of a conversationalist, are we?

"So you don't know?" I prompt, hoping to coax _something _out of him.

Again he shrugs. "I've nothing to compare it with. But I have been told that 'it sounds strict'."

I can't help but laugh.

Heero stares at me like I'm from another planet. "Did I say something funny?"

Which makes me laugh even more. Which, naturally, makes him ask again what he said that was so funny.

The rest of the dinner goes well enough. I get a hold of my laughter enough to eat when Marian brings our food and Heero and I manage to keep up a steady, if not occasionally awkward conversation about… well, nothing, pretty much. And since I'm not feeling particularly creative and it started raining sometime during our meal, we end up heading home afterwards. Not the most exciting of 'dates', if you still want to call it that, but I've had worse.

"So, I don't know what you were expecting but… hopefully that wasn't too bad," I say, putting the car in park in my driveway. I turn to Heero and grin a little sheepishly.

"What was I supposed to expect?" he asks, frowning.

"Er… I don't know? Dude, that's why I said didn't know what you were expecting. I mean, you're probably used to five-star dining and… I don't know, reservation-only art shows or something-"

And then I fall into stunned silence when he kisses me. It takes my brain a second to register just what the hell is happening. And when it does… _God_ is it good! I groan, leaning into him, feeling his tongue brush against mine, light, teasing… trying to respond in kind but god_damn!_ Some guys get a little… er… _excited_ about the tongue action. Once, I nearly choked because the guy I made out with apparently lost a national treasure in the back of my throat and was attempting a serious rescue mission. But Heero… _fuck, _the guy has it down to an art!

I gasp when he finally breaks the kiss. "Oh fuck…"

He hums in agreement and we sit, the sound of rain hitting the car filling the silence between us. My _God_ I've never been so fucking turned on in my life…

"Are we going to sit here all night?" he finally asks.

Pulling the keys from the ignition, I hand them to him. "Go on inside. I'll… er… follow in a moment."


	9. Meet the Folks

**Special Delivery**

**Chapter 9: _Meet the Folks_**

My night was broken up between smoking hot dreams involving me and Heero, uncomfortable states of wakefulness, and one serious need to change my sheets. It's ridiculous that a kiss can do such a thing, I know. So when my alarm goes off at 7:30, I'm exhausted beyond belief, but extremely grateful. Now I can focus on my trip to Quatre's… or perhaps crashing headlong into a telephone pole when I fall asleep at the wheel. I wonder how well Heero drives… It never occurred to me to ask.

I realize that there are a lot of things it never occurred to me to ask him. I wonder why… Maybe he's just that clever when it comes to evading the opportunity? He is very adept at changing the conversation without me realizing it until halfway through…

When I finally get up to start this extra-long day, I find that Heero, as usual, has been up and out running long before I even thought to roll out of bed.

"Sleep well?" he asks, over a mug.

I grunt in response, not quite awake enough to formulate a more eloquent answer. Staggering over to the coffeepot, I pour myself a cup, prep it how I like it, and take a sip.

I find Heero staring at me and I shift self-consciously. "What?"

"Tired?"

"A little." Biggest fucking understatement of the year. I head to the pantry to get a Skylar a scoop of dog food.

"Maybe you should've thought to take a plane."

"And leave Skylar here?"

His brow knits together. "Firstly, you _could_ take her along on a plane… but do you really intend to bring her along?"

"Of course. She's my baby."

He gives me a skeptical look.

"Do you have a dog, Heero?"

"No."

"Then shut up because you don't know what you're talking about."

Heero frowns. "Will she even fit? The backseat of your car is not big enough for a crate for a dog her size."

"You act like I don't know what I'm doing." I scoff. "Of _course_ I know it's too small for a crate. She doesn't travel in a crate. She has a harness to buckle her in." You heard me. A harness that buckles her in. I fold my arms over my chest and give him a stern look. "Listen, no one is making you go. You can stay. I won't be offended. Especially if you're going to bitch the entire way."

No, I'm not really a pleasant morning person…

"No, I will not 'bitch the entire way'." He gives me a sour look and I shrug. "I'm not a child, so I'd appreciate it if you'd not talk to me as if I am. I said I would go, so I will go."

I give him a long look, and then I nod. I think I can trust him to keep to his word. No bitching. "All right then. I'm going to load up the car. You can help if you want. Or take Sky out to do her business."

He shrugs and grabs a suitcase I left sitting on the table, following me out the door.

----

We've been on the road for about two hours (excluding the two stops made so Skylar could get some exercise). Heero's been silent most of the way, unsurprisingly, save for telling me which exits the map says I should take. Hell, if I knew he was going to be this quiet, I would've accepted the bitching.

The radio is spouting all sorts of popular rock music I'm not paying attention to because I'm too busy feeling so completely awkward. "So…"

"Pull over," he says suddenly.

"Huh?"

"Pull over, please."

I glance at him, take in his grayish face. Shit! The guy looks like he's ready to hurl! I pull over as quickly as I can without killing us or anyone else on the road and he scrambles out of the car.

I climb out after him, watching as he bends over and takes several deep breaths before starting to pace. "Dude… you okay?"

"I will be. In a moment."

Since we've stopped, I attach Sky's leash to her collar and let her out of the car. She prances around the shoulder, blissfully investigating all the new and fascinating smells she can bury her doggy nose into.

"I didn't know you get carsick."

He doesn't answer, but his face turns a funny, rosy color, and I realize he's blushing. As if getting carsick is something to be embarrassed about. I grin a little. It's too funny. It's kind of nice to see him have such an ordinary problem.

"You should've told me," I press on. "I have Dramamine at home."

He grumbles something in Japanese. I roll my eyes because he knows I won't understand him. He's just being an ass.

"I think I saw a sign for a drugstore at the next exit. Want me to stop so we can pick something up?"

He doesn't answer.

Stubborn mule. "Look, I'm not going to know what you need unless you tell me. I'm not exactly a mind reader."

With a sigh, he finally relents. "Stopping for something would be… fine."

I smile. "Good. Seems like we're making some progress!" I say mostly to irritate him. And it works. I laugh at the look he gives me. "Ready now?" He nods. "Then let's go. Come on." I usher Skylar back into the car, buckle her up, and then we hit the road again.

"So why didn't you tell me you got carsick?" I ask, unwilling to let it go just yet.

"Well, it never came up." He frowns a little. "It's not common practice to simply go up to a man and say 'Good day. I get carsick.'"

That cracks me up to no end and earns me a strange look from Heero.

"So… why didn't you take anything before we left?" I ask once I regain my composure.

"I forgot."

I sputter in surprise. "_You?_ Forget."

He gives me another strange look. "Yes. It's entirely plausible that I would forget. I _am_ only human."

"Never said you weren't." Thought it, of course, but he doesn't have to know that…

The look he gives me tells me he knows exactly that. I can only grin, albeit a bit sheepishly.

----

I feel really bad for Heero. Despite the fact that I bought the motion-sickness pills, he ended up puking his guts up an hour later. Thankfully, it was only the one time. But he's looked a little green ever since. He's also been more silent than usual, irritated, I guess, because I asked how he survived a flight if he couldn't stomach a car trip.

Inquiring minds want to know!

I guess I didn't matters much help by teasing him that maybe it was really morning sickness…

But you have to admit he was asking for it.

"We're almost there," I tell Heero as I turn down the final street.

From the corner of my eye, I can see he's studying the impressive houses we pass. Not big enough to be mansions, but close. It's typical of Old Money folks. You know, the one's who don't feel the need to show off their family wealth so flamboyantly, yet still take pride in it.

"Is this the 'influential' friend of yours?"

"Yeah." I nod as I pull into Quat's driveway. "And his hunky husband."

I feel the weight of Heero's gaze upon me. After turning the car off, I catch him studying me. I give him a puzzled look. "What?"

He studies me for a moment longer, then shakes his head. "Nothing."

"If you have to puke, make sure you miss the flowers."

He glares at me and I grin. I think he might want to retort, but by then I see my very best friend flying out the door of his house. Christ, sometimes he reminds me of Skylar.

"I didn't think you'd really come!" Quatre exclaims, bounding over as I climb out of the car. He gives me a tight hug, kissing my cheek.

"Well, I said I'd come, didn't I?"

He beams at me. "Well, I'm glad you didn't skip out last minute. I see you brought your dog." Animal lover that he is, he reaches into the car to greet my overly ecstatic dog. "Hey there, Skylar! Did you have a nice—well, hello! Who do we have here?" He pulls himself out of my car and raises his eyebrow with a sly smile as Heero climbs out of the other side of the car.

I barely manage to fight down a blush. "Erm, why don't we go inside first? So I don't have to make the same introduction a million times."

"All right, all right. I'll help with your bags." As he passes me, he gives me a nudge and a wink, mouthing '_Hot!_'

I manage to keep from laughing as I let Skylar out. Heero is definitely _that._

As the three of us drag the luggage and Skylar towards the house, I catch sight of Trowa holding the door open. "Hey Cradle Robber!" I call cheerfully. I grin when he shoots a glare at me. _Damn,_ he's too easy!

"Duo, stop calling him that," Quatre protests hopelessly.

"Hey, you don't mind, do you, Cradle Robber?" I ask as I pass him.

"Of course not. I know better than to take offense at childish name-calling from an insecure midget."

I thrust my suitcase into the back of his knees and laugh when he stumbles. Midget, in_deed!_ So we all can't be a strapping six-foot tall gymnast.

Behind me, Quatre groans. "Do I _really _have to baby sit the both of you the length of this visit?!"

Trowa scoots around me and takes the bag from him, giving him a long, scorching kiss. Just to piss me off. "I can't speak for the runt, but I find myself above these childish games."

I roll my eyes at his barb. Above the games my _ass. _"Oh, that's the biggest load of shit I've ever-"

"Duo! Why don't you introduce us to your new friend?" Quatre says loudly over the two of us.

"Oh… right. Um. Guys, this is… erm…" How to introduce him? My husband?

"I'm Heero," he says for me, sticking his hand out to Quatre.

Okay, so we could do it the easy way.

"Yeah, this is Heero. Heero, this is Quatre." My blond friend takes his hand with a delighted grin.

"It's a pleasure."

"And the tall guy over there is his cradle-robbing husband, Trowa."

"I'm going to kill you in your sleep, Duo," Trowa grumbles.

"Will the two of you knock it off?!" Quatre snaps, looking positively annoyed that we spoiled the briefly pleasant moment.

"Don't worry, we're only teasing each other," I assure him.

Heero studies Trowa for a long moment before shaking his hand. "You look familiar."

"He should be. He competed in the last two Summer Olympics," I point out. The whole town was ecstatic that a member of the tiny local college had made it onto the Olympic Gymnastic Team, so, of course, everyone knew who Trowa Barton was. I remember when Quat and I were watching the men's gymnastics rounds his first time. He was incredible. And he absolutely _dominated _the competition. Naturally, we jumped on the fan bandwagon. It didn't hurt that he was so fucking hot. Honest to God, I swear he's the only guy I know who can look so good in spandex.

We _both_ had some pretty wicked fantasies about him, I confess. But neither of us actually _expected_ any of it would come true, of course. We were mere humans, bumbling high school students at that. So it was astonishing when Quatre, who has the athletic ability of a lima bean, attracted the Olympic champion's attention when it was all over. "Of course, his second go was much more… _memorable_, don't you think?" I flutter my lashes in Trowa's direction.

"Duo…" Quatre warns.

Trowa glares daggers at me and I smile sweetly. He doesn't like being reminded of that epic, unfortunate failure (so naturally I remind him of it when I think to). That was the year he fucked his shoulder up on the pommel horse exercise. I remember it happened so fast. One minute, he's whipping around on that funny block. The next… something happened that sent him crashing to the ground. I think the whole world mourned. I know Quat did. Of _course, _it ended his career as a gymnast. I think he teaches it now, but, from what Quatre tells me, he _really_ misses competing.

"Thank you, Duo," Trowa mutters.

"Any time."

He glares at me again.

"So, Heero…" he begins casually. I shoot him a suspicious look because I know he's never so casual without reason. Particularly after I brought up such painful memories for him. "How much did he have to pay you?"

Ouch!


	10. Playful Banter

**Special Delivery**

_AN: Someone bludgeon me with my desk chair if I ever take this long to get a chapter out again. Meh. Shameful! And to think... this is mostly a filler chapter... with some fun set up on the side! See if you can spot it! lol!_

**Chapter 10: Playful Banter**

"I assume you and your friend's spouse don't get along," Heero says after Quatre shows us to our room.

"Hmm?" I look at him over the edge of my open suitcase. I laugh a little. "What makes you say that?"

He gestures to the door. "The exchange the two of you had would give anyone that impression."

"Ah. That." I shrug. "I guess it would."

He folds his arms over his chest and arches a brow. Classic sign that he's waiting for me to continue explaining.

I sigh. All right then. "I don't _hate_… I mean—well… we… um, hmm." I purse my lips thoughtfully. "Well, what I mean is—Trowa… Well, anyway, he's good people-"

"He's a good person, you mean."

I roll my eyes. "I _know. _Dude, it's just an expression. But yes, that's what I meant. Anyway, it's not like I hate him or anything. And I'm pretty sure he's okay with me. We just have a… vicious sense of humor between each other. But we both know we're joking." I think.

"Ah. I see," he says, frowning a little. "Maybe I should have responded in kind, when he asked me how much you paid me? Perhaps produced a copy of my credit card statement? Though technically, you didn't pay me. We paid the company-"

"No!" I yelp. Heero gives me a strange look. "I mean, um... well…" Having created this sudden, unpleasant moment, I rub the back of my neck awkwardly. "Erm, listen. They don't know about this, um, this _unusual_ situation we're in. I mean… yeah, okay, we're married but—but obviously, we don't know each other very well. It won't really make sense, you know? And I'm afraid I'm not much of an actor, or a liar, for that matter, so I can't pull off an act that we _do_ know each other that well so…" His strange look only grows stranger. I wonder if he's taken offense. Hell, if someone said to me what I said to him, _I'd_ be offended. "Look, if it comes up, we'll tell them all about it. But if it doesn't…" I shrug.

"All right."

"All right?" I wasn't really expecting _that_ reaction.

He shrugs. "We all have embarrassments we'd rather others didn't know about."

I flinch at his choice of words. Talk about putting your foot in your mouth. "Well—well _yeah, _but—Listen. For the record, I don't find you an embarrassment."

"I know."

"Just the fact that I got us into this the way I did."

"You weren't the only one responsible for our… unique situation."

Heero certainly knows how to throw a guy off-balance. "Um… okay." I shift my weight, feeling awkward again. Let's see, how can I possibly make this _worse?_

There is a knock at the door. I glance toward it as Quatre's voice rings out, "I hope you're dressed because I'm coming in. Though I'll understand it if you're not!"

Oh yeah. Throw my best friend into the mix. I feel my face burn red as he enters. He gives the two of us a quick glance and frowns, looking thoroughly disappointed. Despite my embarrassment, I manage to roll my eyes. Just what were you expecting, man?

"I know it's pretty late for dinner, but are you two hungry? Trowa's nearly finished whipping up a tasty batch of fried chicken just for the occasion."

Never a frozen dinner in _Quatre's_ kitchen, I see. Not that I mind. "Aw, _hell_ yeah! Tro's fried chicken is the best." Dropping an arm around my dear friend's shoulders, I give his stomach a pat. "No wonder you're packing on the pounds," I say with a teasing grin.

"I'm not packing on anything!" he yelps, clasping his stomach with one hand. "Just for that, I'll make sure he spits in yours."  
"He probably already has," I admit.

"True."

"Hey! Aren't you supposed to be keeping an eye on the antics your cradle-robbing husband gets up to?"

He smirks. "Not when you deserve it."

In a moment of childishness, I stick my tongue out at him.

He grins. Then he spies my 'date'. Crossing the room, he loops his arm with Heero's and leads him to the door, ignoring the fact that the blatant familiarity seems to startle the hell out of Heero. Quatre's always been like that. "So, Heero. Why don't you tell me all about how you met my best friend? Don't spare any details. Has he made a complete fool of himself yet?"

"Yes. Several times already," Heero replies frankly. I feel myself blush as I recall those _several _times.

Quatre laughs, glancing back at me. "You know, Heero… I think we'll be great friends."

With a groan, I follow them. I'm beginning to think it might've been a mistake bringing Heero along…

Of course, then the tasty aroma of Trowa's fried chicken hits me and hunger overrides my concerns. I trot to catch up with them. "Coming through, coming through." I forcibly wedge myself between them, linking my arms with theirs. I give Quatre a reprimanding stare. "You have your own lover to cozy up to so leave mine alone."

His bottom lip puffs out into a mock pout. "Duo, you never let me have any fun."

"You have Trowa. He's very… bendy. How much more fun do you need?"

"True," he drawls, grinning.

We laugh. I catch sight of Heero's bewildered face and it makes me laugh even more. Poor, poor guy.

"What's so funny?" Trowa asks as we stroll into the kitchen.

"I've been wondering the same thing," Heero mutters. "How are you used to it?"

Trowa gives him a smirk. "I hate to burst any bubbles you have but you don't get used to it. It's just their way."

"Aww, it's just an inside joke," I reply, waving them off as I snag two cooling chicken legs off the napkin. "Eat," I instruct, handing a leg to Heero. "Best damn fried chicken you've ever had."

"Why Duo, I almost regret spitting in your food," Trowa deadpans.

I stick my tongue out at him before tearing off a strip of chicken. "Oh bite me, cradle-robber."

"That's why I said almost."

I show him a mouthful of half-chewed chicken. "Mmm, gymnastic spit. Chewy."

He makes a face at me. "You are _such _a child."

I swallow. "Well, you encourage me, so that makes _you _a child too." I glance over my shoulder to see Heero staring at the chicken leg in his hand. "Something wrong? You're not eating."

"I do not intend to eat this if it's been spit in."

Trowa laughs, slumping back against the countertop. "He takes things very seriously, does he?"

With a laugh of my own, give Heero a comforting pat on the shoulder. "Dude, the chicken is okay to eat. He didn't _really_ spit on him. He's too afraid of what Quatre will do if he misbehaves _that_ much."

"That's true," Trowa admits.

I snicker, making the sound of a whip-crack.

Aside from rolling his eyes, he ignores me. Quatre gives him a look of approval. I grin.

Man, he is so _whipped!_

"Hey Quat, hand me another piece of chicken, would you? I need to fortify myself against tomorrow's reunion."

"Will it really be that bad?" Heero asks.

I simply hum. This is my high school we're talking about.

----

You know, it always occurs to me to start thinking things through—usually _after_ I've made a mistake that could've been avoided if I… well, _thought things through_. Yet I never do. Think it through, I mean. So, naturally, it didn't occur to me that, when I dragged Heero along on this reunion vacation, posing as lovers, Quatre would put us up in the same room. With one bed.

Now, usually I'm okay with this kind of thing. I've messed around with plenty of guys I've known a shorter time than I've known Heero (which… wow, makes me sound like some kind of man-whore, which… well, I'm not). So, obviously, I am comfortable with the sex aspect of a relationship. But, for some odd reason, as the two of us entered the bedroom with the innocent intent to go to sleep, that one bed makes me freeze. I'd noticed the bed when we arrived, but it just didn't click like it does now. I mean, we kissed that one time… and that's it. To me, it feels like there is this 'don't go there yet' kind of vibe.

Heero, on the other hand, doesn't seem to notice or care. He crosses the room, pulling his shirt off, and sets it neatly aside. I can't seem to take my eyes off his smooth, bare back. Can I take a moment to say 'yummy'?

Yummy.

"Is something wrong?" From his seat on the bed he looks at me, one foot resting on top of his knee as he pulls off a sock.

I feel my face heat up. So he caught me staring… probably drooling, too. "Erm… just contemplating the s-sleeping arrangements…" I touch the corner of my mouth and feel the tell-tale sign of damp. Dammit! I was only _joking_ about the drooling!

"Ah." He glances around the room once, then down at the bed. "Well," he finally says, "we are married."

"I know but we've never actually—I mean…" I throw my hands out helplessly. Shut up before you make a bigger ass of yourself, Maxwell! "Are you okay with all this?"

His gaze skips from me to the bed and back to me. Then he nods. "I am fine with the situation. Are you?"

"Yeah… Yeah, it's all good."

He nods, grabs his toothbrush, and disappears into the adjoining bathroom. I crane my neck to make sure he's okay (okay, okay… to check out his ass), before grabbing a pair of sweats from the haphazard pile in my suitcase. I can't help but laugh quietly. I can't remember the last time I went to bed with someone with the actual intent to sleep. Even as a kid, I was the sort to stay up talking or hiding under the blankets playing space pirates with whatever action figures my friends and I had available.

Wriggling out of my jeans, I toss them aside in a heap and step into my sweatpants.

"I am finished in the bathroom."

Caught with my pants down, literally, I yelp in surprise and lurch forward. Of course, since my pants are pretty much around my damn ankles, I fall flat on my face.

"Ow," I mutter around a mouthful of plush carpet. Slowly, wincing, I roll onto my back. Heero is looking down on me with an amusing expression on his face. He doesn't seem to know whether to laugh or be seriously concerned about my health (or that's what it looks like).

"Here," he finally says, extending his hand. I guess he chose seriousness. I wish he'd laugh. I'm pretty sure I'd like hearing it.

Anyway, I finish wriggling into my sweats and then grab onto his generously proffered hand. I let out a funny squeak when he hauls me to my feet with surprising force.

"Wow. Uh… you're really strong," I say before I can stop myself. Mentally, I slap my hand to my forehead. Way to go, genius. Wow him by sounding like a ditzy heroine. Why don't you flounce around in a fluffy apron and bat your eyelashes while you're at it?! "What big strong arms you have!" Puh-_lease!_

"I exercise regularly," he says, releasing my hand a second later than casual friendship dictates.

"Uh, that's good. That's good. Hey, maybe you and Tro should have an arm wrestling contest. See who's stronger," I babble as I head into the bathroom to brush my own teeth.

"Is that important?"

I shrug, squeezing minty paste onto the toothbrush. "Um… no. No, not really. I just meant for fun," I reply around my toothbrush and a mouthful of toothpaste foam. "I'm just curious."

He hums. I glance in the mirror to see him leaning against the bathroom doorframe, staring into space with a strange, brooding look on his face.

"What?"

He blinks and looks at me. "Hmm?"

"Something wrong?"

"No."

I give him an awkward of smile. "Okay then."

And on that odd note, he slips back into the bedroom. I stare at the doorway a moment longer as I finish brushing my teeth. _Oookay_…

I'm even further confused when I see the light flick off. Now, I haven't actually known him a super long time, but I'm pretty sure I know him well enough to recognize that he's been acting weird since we arrived. The question is… why?

Spitting the last of the paste into the sink, I rinse my toothbrush, flick off the bathroom light, and head into the bedroom. As I stand by the door, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the dark so I don't break a leg trying to get into bed, I notice that Heero is already asleep. Well, I suppose that's no surprise. He _does_ get up at the asscrack of dawn to go jogging.

And don't forget his adventures in the land of Carsickness. That'd wear anybody down.

Smiling to myself, I climb into my side of the bed. "Good night," I say quietly so I don't disturb him. And as I wriggled down beneath the blankets and close my eyes to follow his suit, I hear a quiet "good night" in response.


	11. Wet Dreams

**Special Delivery**

_AN: No real excuses here... I've just been busy with show rehearsal and performing all day St. Paddy's Day. Which has finally culminated into the mother of all epic colds. Meh. Enjoy :)  
_

**Chapter 11: _Wet Dreams_**

I walk down a broad, bleak street and a man in a purple jumpsuit walks out of a broad, bleak house, marches up to me, and says, with devastating seriousness, "It must be the magic mushrooms."

"Magic mushrooms?" I echo. I glance at the bright orange mushrooms hopping at his heels, sporting neon pink spots and huge, innocent eyes. "But those mushrooms aren't magic. They're simply animate." Because it they are, of course. "Besides, I don't do magic mushrooms. They grow under cow shit."

Purple Jumpsuit Man shakes his head. "Murphy says it's too easy. Magic mushrooms." The bright mushrooms jump behind him and from out of nowhere a warm, somewhat lumpy body pillow is shoved into my arms. "Now hold onto this. Hold on tight!"

"Why?"

The ground suddenly disappears beneath my feet. I fall. I want to scream but the rushing wind traps my voice in my throat. Somewhere overhead, I hear the mushrooms giggling. Purple Jumpsuit Man shouts, "Brace yourself!"

I wrap myself around the body pillow as if it will save me from imminent death in the dark abyss below.

With a lurch, I wake up. It takes me a second to remember how to breathe, and when I do I draw in a greedy gasp. Just _what_ did Trowa put in that fried chicken?!

And stranger still, why do I still have the body pillow from my dream?

"Are you awake?"

I freeze. A talking pillow? Highly unlikely, unless I'm still dreaming… Which I'm pretty sure I'm not.

Holy shit.

That 'body pillow' I had wrapped myself around in my dream is no pillow at all. With an embarrassed squawk, I unwind my limbs from Heero's body.

"Sorry about that," I mumble, grateful that it's dark so he can't see my scarlet face. "I guess I forgot to mention I get kind of, um, grabby in my sleep…" Particularly when I dream about weird men in purple jumpsuits and animated mushrooms telling me to latch onto a body pillow that is clearly _not_ a body pillow.

"It is fine."

"Er… I'll sleep on the floor, if you want."

"I said that it was fine." I feel the bed shift and I can kind of make out that he rolled onto his back. "I was waiting to get up, anyway."

"Waiting… to get up?"

"It's 6:30."

I glance over him to see 6:30 AM glowing faintly on the face of the alarm clock. So it is. Still too damned early in _my _book. "Going jogging?"

He mutters an affirmative. I'm not surprised. Embarrassed, yeah, considering he was waiting for me to wake up. But not surprised.

"Dude, why didn't you push me off then?" I yawn hugely. "You didn't have to endure the Duo Maxwell Ultimate Grabby Assault."

"You were asleep."

"So?"

"I did not want to wake you."

"I sleep like a log. An earthquake wouldn't wake me."

"That is dangerous. You wouldn't know to find a safe place to survive the earthquake if you slept through it."

I laugh a little. "Just another figure of speech, 'Ro. Er… I think."

"_Heero_."

"Uh, yeah. Heero. Sorry." I stifle another yawn. "Anyway, all I'm trying to say is that you don't have to worry so much about me. I'm not… _fragile_ or anything."

He hums. The bed shifts again as he tosses the blankets aside and gets to his feet. "I apologize for waking you. You should go back to sleep."

"I probably won't be able to. I had this really weird dream, and let me tell you…" I stifle another yawn.

"Sleep," he repeats firmly, disappearing into the bathroom.

I sit there, staring blankly at the wall. Images of that weird dream linger in the back of my head but I have yet to focus any attention on it, so it sits there like a brain itch.

"Why aren't you asleep?" Heero asks a few minutes later. I didn't even realize he'd come out.

"I'm still walking up," I say after taking a moment to process exactly what he'd said.

"All this time you wasted waking up could've been used to go back to sleep."

"My brain is already in the process of waking up, though. And once you start that, you can't just shut it off. See, it's on autopilot. Only severe head trauma or the mother of all colds can reverse the effects."

"I see." He sounds thoughtful. "I will return later."

I stifle another yawn. "Enjoy your jog."

He makes an affirmative noise and heads out the door. I smile to myself. After another five minutes or so, I decide that I'm finally awake enough to swing out of bed and take care of business in the bathroom. I know, I know. I'm extremely slow this early in the morning.

Bladder relieved, face washed, I head through Quatre's house to release Skylar from her crate so she can do the same.

After about half an hour of outdoor playtime and defecating on Quatre and Trowa's well-manicured lawn (Skylar, not me), I bring her back inside. To my surprise, Trowa is awake, making coffee in the kitchen.

"You're up early," I remark needlessly, offering Skylar a dish of dog food.

"So are you. Coffee?"

I nod.

"Last I remember, you couldn't be pried out of bed before eight," he says, grabbing a second mug. "And that was only if you _had_ to be up."

"Heero has decided that the asscrack of dawn is the best time to go for a run."

"I _thought_ I heard someone leave."

"By the way, _what_ did you put in the chicken? I had the _craziest_ dream!"

"The chicken was just chicken. Whatever goes on in your subconscious is something you should discuss with a shrink, not me," he replies with a smirk, handing me a mug. A second later, he slides the sugar in my direction.

"Watch it," I warn as I spoon some sugar into my coffee. "I have a cup of scalding liquid in my hand."

"And I have a pot of it in mine. Your point?"

I stick my tongue out at him. "Assface."

He bobs an informal curtsy. "At your service."

I laugh. A moment of silence passes between us as we enjoy our beverage.

"Interesting lover you've got there," Trowa finally says.

"Eh?"

"Heero, obviously."

"Oh. Yeah… Yeah, he's pretty interesting."

"Where's he from?"

"Pardon?"

He just gives me a pointed look.

"Japan."

"Where'd you meet a guy from Japan?" He smirks. "Internet dating service or something?"

I glance away, finding the wall next to me extremely fascinating. "Something like that…"

Trowa thumps his mug onto the countertop, laughing heartily at my expense.

Turning back, I make a face at him. "It's not that funny." Which only makes him laugh harder. "Shut up!"

"Didn't you once say that _everyone_ loved you? That you'd never have a problem finding a date?"

I can feel my face redden. Of _course_ he'd remember something I said in _high school!_ "Seriously! Shut up!"

He smirks. "Make me."

So naturally, after setting my mug aside, I crack my knuckles. "Oh, it's on bitch."

"Ladies first."

I grab a wet rag from the sink. Flipping it around itself, I snap it at him. He yelps in the most satisfying way when it strikes home. I move to snap him again when he seizes the spray nozzle from the very same sink and, with a quick flick of the wrist, turns the water on and sprays me down. The water is _freezing_, I might add, which is not fair at all!

I splutter and spit, futilely trying to block the water with my hands. "I know you did _not_ just do that!"

"Oh yes, I believe I just did."

With a yell, I charge at him. He does some fancy maneuvering, grabbing my shoulders and suddenly I find myself in a headlock. Don't ask how it happened. I don't rightly know.

"Dude, that was quick," I gag, straining against his hold.

"I'm a little surprised myself," Trowa admits, his grip still strong.

"Seriously, Trowa, I can't breathe."

"What? Oh, sorry." He loosens his grip.

With a victorious laugh, I duck out of reach and make a leap onto his back. "Who's king now?!" I shout. I hold on tight as he swings around, trying to dislodge me.

"King? More like King _Kong!_" He staggers around the kitchen, prying at my arms. "What are you, a gorilla?"

I laugh, giving him my best impression of a gorilla's hoots.

Trowa swings around again. "Forget gorilla, you're a damned tick!"

"I vant to suck your—oof!" I gasp as he smacks me up against the wall and all my breath is forced out of me. "Ouch, man, that really—_oof!_ Seriously! I—" And I shut up then because a) Trowa stopped smacking me around and b) Heero is standing in the doorway, all hot and sweaty and looking a little pissed off.

I release my grip on Trowa and tug at my wet shirt, which is making me feel all cold and clammy and just disgusting. "Well hey there, Heero. How was your—mmph!" Heero had grabbed my arm and pulled me into one hell of a kiss. Which, you see, is the reason I was suddenly silenced. Not that I'm going to complain any… He crushes me against him, still all hot and sweaty and probably a bit smelly and oh _god_ is that his tongue doing that? I groan, leaning into him slightly, returning the kiss with as much fervor. I don't know where this guy learned to kiss, but I think the whole world needs to sign up for lessons from him. If I could bear sharing, that is…

Finally, he lets me go, his teeth catching my bottom lip a little more sharply than I'd normally care for… if I was in the right frame of mind.

He blinks and says, "I'm back." Yes. Yes, I can see that. "I will be in the shower." Then, as if it didn't happen, he turns abruptly and leaves the kitchen. Well now! Stop by again!

I manage to keep standing until the very second he's out of sight. Then my right knee sort of sags and I have to lean on the counter to keep from falling right there.

"Holy _shit_ that was hot…" Trowa mutters.

"You're telling me," I gasp.

"A little amusing, too."

"I fail to see what's so funny." I'm still trying to wrap my brain around that intensity. Futilely, I fan my face with my hand.

"You saw him." He snickers. "Territorial, much?"

"You think?" I personally can't think of much anything else except 'bluhhhhhh'.

"Hey, I know the signs. And that practically screamed 'This one's mine'."

I snort. "But dude… you're married."

"And you were riding me." His smirk is absolutely wicked.

"Okay, if you—don't even—just—no."

His smirk only grows.

"What's all the noise about?"

I glance over my shoulder to see a sleepy-looking Quatre standing in the doorway. "Good morning, Quat," I chirp.

The withering stare he gives me reads 'good morning, my ass'. I grin.

"Did we wake you?" Trowa asks, sweet as can be. The snake.

"Yes," he grumbles, shuffling into the kitchen. Then he freezes and closes his eyes. "Duo. Trowa. What did I just walk into?"

I glance down to see him standing in a puddle. "That would be water."

He frowns. "And _why_ am I standing in water?"

"Umm… because you walked into it?" I thought that was pretty obvious, but maybe that's just me.

"Duo!"

"Hey, it was Trowa's fault!"

"I'm going to kill you."

"Knock it off!" Quatre snaps. He opens his eyes and gives us a glare reminiscent of an angry father. Not a surprise when Trowa and I act like two rotten little kids. "Now… I expect the two of you will have this cleaned up by the time I finish my coffee?"

"Of course," Trowa says, giving him a kiss.

"Whipped," I murmur under my breath, unable to resist a grin.

"I was serious about the killing you comment."

"I said knock it off!"

And with a final laugh, I do as I'm told.


	12. A Reunion in Two Parts

**Special Delivery**

**Chapter 12: _A _****_Reunion in Two Parts  
_**

There is a knock at my door. I poke my head out of the bathroom. "What?"

"Duo! Having you finished getting _ready_ yet?!" I hear Quatre shout. God, he sounds annoyed… "We should've left ten minutes ago!"

"Yeah, beauty queen, finish primping already!" Trowa chimes in.

"Go suck a dick, Cradle Robber!" I shout back, tying my hair off and heading to the door.

"It'd be my pleasure."

I crack open the door and look at them. "You would."

"So would you."

Quatre rolls his eyes at our banter. "Are you finally ready to go?"

"Almost…" I move to close the door again but, with considerable strength, he knocks the door into me and barges in.

"Well?" He gestures wildly at me, tapping his foot impatiently. "What's the hold up?"

"I just… I'm stalling?" I crawl half under the bed to snag my shoe, yelping when Quat seizes the waistband of my pants and pulls me back.

"Well knock it off. Even Heero's pitched in. He took Skylar out—"

"That was nice of him."

"—so there is one less thing you have to stop for, you big baby."

"Get on your feet. Up. Up!" Grabbing my hands, he hauls me to a stand. "Oh for the love of—Trowa, get his black shoes, please. Honestly, Duo. Brown shoes with these slacks? What were you thinking?"

"I guess I wasn't."

He fusses with my hair and pinches my cheeks hard. I wince. "Now. You look fine. There's nothing to worry about-"

"Dude, I'm not _worried-_"

"Okay, okay. You're not worried…" Standing back, he appraises me. I squirm, feeling like a kid being prepped for prom. "Let's lose the tie, hmm? It doesn't suit you." He yanks the tie from my neck and tosses it aside.

I roll my eyes, rubbing my poor neck. That kind of hurt, actually. "Yes mommy."

Ignoring me, he pushes me back onto the bed. "Sit." He takes a shoe from Trowa, wrenching the brown one off my foot and cramming said foot into the black one. I wonder if Cinderella felt like this when the prince was trying shoes on her feet. It kind of sucks, actually.

"Ouch! Dude, I don't need you to dress me."

"You do if we're going to get out of here any time this _century_." He heaves a laborious sigh, shoving my other foot into the other shoe. "Honestly, you're never on time for _anything_."

I grin. "It's one of my charms." He gives me a stern look. I shrug. "Besides, it's just a _five _year high school reunion. Five years! It's not like it's anything important."

"Then why primp for so long?"

"'Cause I want to look damn hot!"

He gives my knee a firm swat and pulls me to my feet. "And you do," he says, exasperated. "Hell, I'll even jump your bones later if you want-"

I snort in laughter.

"-but right now we are _late_. Get moving." Quatre shoves me out the door and follows, dragging Trowa in his wake.

Heero is ushering Skylar into the house as we meet up with him. He stops, giving me a long once over. Dare I say there is an appreciative gleam in his eyes? Well, a guy can hope. Especially if this morning's kiss is anything to go by… God, to I _have_ to go to this thing? "Are you ready?" he asks.

"Yes, finally," Quatre answers for me, exasperation only growing further. "Now can we get a move on?" He pushes me out the door and jerks his head in Heero's direction, indicating that he should follow. "Just to let you know what you've gotten into, Heero, Duo is like this all the time."

"Hey!" I yelp. Even though it's the truth, I resent that!

"He's going to be late for any appointment you ever set."

"I see."

"He spends a ridiculous amount of time primping."

"I do _not!_"

"Duo, don't kid yourself."

"We don't need your two-cents, Cradle Robber."

"How about I plant my foot up your ass?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?

"How about we shut up and leave without planting anyone's foot up anyone's ass?"

"Yes, Quatre," Trowa and I say. Quat gives the two of us suspicious looks before ushering everyone into his car. Poor guy. He has an immature husband and an equally immature best friend… I don't envy him a bit.

I settle down in the back seat with Heero and grin. "Ready?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well you _do _get carsick."

"I'll be fine for a short ride."

"So, Heero, did you go to high school?" Quatre asks, glancing at us in the rearview mirror as we head on our way.

"Why wouldn't he?" I ask. There's no _way_ a guy like him would be a dropout.

"In Japan we have a choice whether we want to go to high school or not," Heero explains patiently.

Oh, I see. Of _course_ Quatre would know something as random as that. "Sounds nice." Then I make a face. If he knows Heero lived in Japan, he either got the information out of him (which I highly doubt) or Trowa told him everything.

Heero shrugs slightly. "Yes, I went to high school."

"Got any high school reunions coming up?" I'm kidding, sort of. I mean… I honestly wouldn't _mind_ going to Japan, if he wanted me to accompany him. It'd be fun, I think.

He shrugs. "I wouldn't attend it if there was a reunion."

I tilt my head, watching him curiously. "Bad experiences?"

"No." Aaaaaand… He doesn't elaborate, which is kind of irritating. After having friends like Quatre, I guess I'm used to people just divulging _everything._

I roll my eyes. "So…?"

"What?"

"Is there any reason _why_ you don't want to go?"  
He dwells on it for a moment. "I suppose."

"Can I hear them?"

"No."

I growl. Okay, this dodging game he keeps playing is getting ridiculous. "Why not?"

He gives me a weird look. "I just don't see the point. It's not important."

"Says _you!_"

Quat glances at us again. "Am I going to have to separate you two?"

"Separate us from what?" Heero asks blankly.

"Each other, obviously."

"Oh. Why would you do that?"

Quatre laughs.

"He's teasing," I assure him.

I glance out the window at the familiar places that flash by: the bowling alley my friends and I hung out at nearly every Saturday; the park where I got busted trying out weed; the drive-in where Quat first got laid…

"Dude, they still have Tacos & More?" A favorite, locally-owned lunchtime hangout for those who went to my school, myself included. If you flirted just right with the cashier, you'd get free guac. "I thought that place would've gone under by now."

"Nope, it's still hanging in there," Quatre says. "Free guac and all."

I grin. He read my mind. "We should stop by there before I leave. I haven't had one of their Loaded Burritos since… well, since we graduated!"

"Sure."

"So where is this shindig anyway?"

My best friend sighs. "Didn't you read the letter, Duo?"

"Eh. Maybe. You called before I could get too involved with it—I was too busy rolling my eyes at the thought of a five-year reunion. Anyway… you know I'm no good with those kinds of details."

"Another thing you're going to have to worry about, Heero," Trowa chimes in, glancing back and grinning at us.

"Knock it off! You make me sound completely irresponsible!"

"Well, you are."

"_Anyway_," Quatre interrupts loudly, "It's at the Gatewater Hotel."

I whistle appreciatively. "For a five-year reunion, our old alma-mater sure knows how to go all out."

As if on cue, he turns down Main Street and the impressive hotel looms before us, mocking me. I grimace. It's definitely not my kind of joint. If it were up to me, the reunion would be at a pizza place or, hell, Tacos & More. Free guac all around!

"Are you sure I should've left the tie behind?" I wonder aloud.

"No point in making you uncomfortable, is there?" Quatre muses, pulling up to the patiently waiting valet.

"Oh no, of course not. Not when there's the hotel for the rich and famous to do that for me."

"Duo, you'll be _fine_. No one here is better than you-"

"I didn't say that anyone was! And of course I'll be fine," I growl, climbing out of the car with everyone. Promptly, I run into Heero, who didn't seem to find it necessary that he move out of the way. I look up at him to offer some sort of sarcastic comment, but he didn't even notice. His gaze is fixed on the hotel. I slump back against the car, half wedged in the doorway, studying him. He seems to be searching for something.

"What's wrong?" I ask. He doesn't hear me. "Heero?"

"Nani?"

"What?" Nanny? Nonny? Nunnery?

"What?"

Okay, _what?_ I blink, confused, and shake my head. "You okay, man?"

He nods and finally steps back, grabbing my hands to pull me out of my awkward wedge.

"Are you two lovebirds coming?" Looking up, I notice Quatre and Trowa waiting for us by the entrance. Quat gestures impatiently for us to hurry up.

I shoot a grin at them and hold up our linked hands. "Hey, mind if we just borrow your backseat instead?"

Quatre laughs. "After the reunion, maybe."

The valet gives Heero and me a weird look as we pass him. I wink at the poor guy. We probably just gave him plenty of mental images to last him a lifetime.

Trowa, being the occasional gentleman that he is, opens the door for us. "Get your own backseat, Duo. That one's been permanently reserved."

"Wha—oh _God!_ Does that mean we were sitting in your old _sex juices?!_" I yelp, drawing many stunned glances from hotel guests and employees alike. Oops.

Quatre laughs even harder than he did earlier. "I am glad some things never change." He links arms with me and leads the lot of us through the hotel, following helpful direction signs to the appropriate ballroom.

A blandly designed banner reading "Peacemillion High School Class Reunion" hangs over the ballroom doorway. Just to the right is a table, where our senior class president (and my ex-girlfriend) Lucrezia Noin sits, handing out nametags. She never missed anything, Lucy. Very smart. She actually realized I was gay before I did.

"Good God, Lucy, you haven't changed a bit."

She looks up with a start and then rolls her eyes when she catches sight of my grinning face. "Duo Maxwell. I should've known." She flips through the nametags. "You haven't changed either, I see. Still dragging poor Quatre around?"

"Actually, he's doing the dragging today."

"Hello Lucy," Quat says, all sweet and innocent. She knows better.

Beaming at him, she hands him a nametag. "Hello Quatre. Trowa." She cranes her neck slightly to look behind Trowa. "And who do we have here?" She gives me an amused look.

I glance back and spot Heero, lurking in the background like some sort of… background lurker. Grabbing his hand, I pull him forward. "Lucy, this is Heero. Heero, Lucrezia Noin. Class president. Resident busybody."

"Shut up, Duo." She gives him an appraising look. "Wow… you're extremely good-looking. Why on _earth _are you with Duo?"

We all laugh. Well, all of us except Heero, who doesn't seem to find it funny at all. He doesn't find anything funny, it seems.

"Wait until you hear how they met," Trowa chimes in.

"Listen, Tro, she's not interested in that-"

She arches a brow at me. I recognize that look. I've seen it many a time when she caught whiff of a particularly interesting bit of gossip. "Oh yes I am!"

Damn Cradle-Robber and his big mouth!


	13. The Reunion, Part Deux

**Special Delivery**

_AN: Stupid? Yes. Enjoy._

**Chapter 13: The **_**Reunion**_**_, Part Deux_**

The ballroom is high class and boring, complete with the expected chandelier, beige damask walls, and a wooden dance floor. The atmosphere makes me feel like I'm at prom again, only this time I have a date I actually want to bang at the end of the night.

Oh yes I _did_ just think that.

The tables are set up around the dance floor, completely with candles, flowers, and nameplates. Lucy, being the kind soul that she is, sat herself, Quatre, and me at the same table, probably so we could regale her with details of our personal lives. I drop my coat off at the nearest chair and take a glance around the ballroom to see who I can recognize.

"_Damn_, is that Sally Po?" I stare across the room at our brainy valedictorian who… um… kind of looks like a blimp. "She got _fat!_"

"Duo," Quatre begins, rolling his eyes at me, "she's pregnant."

"Ah. But doesn't it usually look like the woman just swallowed a basketball? Sally's expanded all around."

"Either way, don't mention it unless she brings it up. Women hate it when you think they're pregnant and they're not."

"You would know, huh?"

He snorts. "I would think that, with twenty-nine sisters, I've learned a thing or two about women."

"Well, you don't have to worry, boys. I went to her baby shower last month. She's so '_expanded_' because she's having twins." With that enlightening statement, Lucy graces us with her presence.

"No wonder she's so huge," I muse.

Lucy hits me over the head. "You're still a bastard, you know that?"

I flutter my lashes in the most endearing way. "Doesn't stop you from being the obligatory fag hag, now does it?"

With a roll of her eyes, she pushes her hair out of her eyes. A flash of glitter on her left hand catches my eye and I snatch said hand before it can drop to her side. "Lucrezia Noin, you're _married?!_"

She smirks and glances at the massive rock on her finger. Don't know _why_ I didn't notice it before. Maybe I was too preoccupied with Heero? "Why yes. Yes I am."

"Since when?"

"It will be three years in June."

"Well, uh, congratulations." I grin. "So who did you manage to snare in that web of yours?"

"That would be him over there."

Our gazes follow the direction of her finger.

"I wouldn't have pegged you for a lesbian," I muse thoughtfully, getting an eyeful of long blonde hair the color of corn silk.

"I'm not, though with _you_ as an ex, I wouldn't blame me for switching teams," she grumbles. I beam. "That's my husband. If you listened, I _did _say _him. _And you of all people have no right to jump to conclusions about the length of a man's hair."

"Touché."

Beside me, Quatre suddenly gasps. "I know who that is!" He stares at Lucy. "You married _him?_"

"Yup." She glances in the direction of Sir Golden Mane and smiles. "My own personal Cinderella story."

I give her my best skeptical look. "I don't recall you having an abusive step-family. Or a step-family at _all_, actually."

She rolls her eyes at me.

"Well, he _is _basically a prince," Quatre supplies for those of us a part of the uneducated masses: namely, me, apparently. "He's Zechs Merquise."

Oh I see… Though I'm not really one to follow the lives of the rich and famous, I have to admit that even _I've_ heard of Zechs Merquise. A serious philanthropist. And with the kind of money he's sitting on, it's no wonder. Very heavily involved in finding solutions to world problems. "You sure know how to pick 'em, Lucy."

Behind me, there is a sharp intake of breath. I glance back as Quatre launches into awed detail about the man's many accomplishments. "What's wrong, Heero?"

He doesn't answer. He simply stares in the direction of this Zechs Merquise guy like… I don't know… Like he's anxious? Though I can't imagine what he'd be anxious about. Unless that's lust I'm seeing? I glance back at Lucy's husband. Well, I can understand _that_ feeling. The man is gorgeous. And when he glances our way and smiles at Lucy… That smile sends him into the realm of the _gods_.

Zechs Merquise hands his drink to the bartender and makes his way across the ballroom. He spreads his arms wide and embraces Lucy, giving her a kiss worthy of a movie screen. I smile as I watch, not at all concerned that I might be considered a voyeur. Hey, if they put it on display… But I note how striking they look together—something of a surprise, considering how tomboyish Lucy is and how very elegant she is _not_.

"So… who do we have here?" Zechs asks, finally letting his wife breathe.

Lucy takes the hint to introduce us.

"Ah, the infamous ex-boyfriend," he says with a smirk when she gets to me.

"I guess so," I reply with a shrug.

"Well, your loss is my gain." He hugs Lucy to his side and kisses the top of her head. "And for that I suppose I should thank you." He tilts his head somewhat and frowns. Even _frowning_, he's fucking gorgeous… "But is someone missing?"

"Hmm?" she and I echo.

"Weren't there four of you?"

Oh! That's right. She never introduced Heero. "Sorry about that. This is…" I glance behind me and shut right up. "Oi. Where'd he go?"

From the corner of my eye I can see Trowa and Quatre exchanged meaningful glances.

"Knock it off, you two." I scoff. I know the meaning of that look. Standing on my toes, I scan the heads of old classmates in search of my new 'spouse'. "This _is _a party of sorts. Food, drinks, _bathrooms_. Like any normal human being, I imagine he's off taking care of one of those things. Honestly. Overreact much?"

"Yes, but don't people normally tell their dates where they're heading before vanishing?" Trowa asks, looking thoroughly amused that I've been ditched. Which I haven't, thank you!

"He's from Japan. Maybe they don't do things like that there."

Zechs Merquise gives me a strange look as Trowa smirks. Quatre elbows his bendy husband. "Be nice."

I roll my eyes. "While you guys are being idiots, I'm going to look for Heero. Excuse me."

"Heero?" I hear Zechs Merquise mutter and Lucy goes on to explain.

I scowl as I march around the ballroom, trying my damnedest not to stomp like an angry little kid. Stupid idiots. I mean, I know they were only joking. They couldn't _know_ that this is exactly what I thought might happen. See, I don't really have the greatest luck in the world, particularly with relationships. So with the arrival of a guy like Heero—good looking, smart, funny in a very _dry _way, and hey, I'm starting to like him a lot too—somewhere in the back of my head I was just _waiting _for it to blow up in my face. Looks like it very well could've happened now. Damn. Why couldn't this have happened in the privacy of my own home, eh? Away from the prying eyes of my best friend and his jackass husband? Is that too much to ask!?

Oh _god,_ _now_ who's overreacting? I hit my forehead with the heel of my palm. Get a grip, man! All I have to do is look. No big deal. So I look.

Drink bar? No Heero. Dance floor? No Heero. Salad bar? If you said 'No Heero,' here's a gold star. I frown in irritation. That leaves the bathrooms. And if he's not there... I'm going to kill the bastard. Once I find him.

As I head for the ballroom's exit, I run into a pair of jocks I can only remember as Alex and Mueller. I don't even remember if those are first names or last. Hmm. I guess I should pull out my yearbook every now and then? Maybe? Well, what I _do_ remember is that you'd never see one without the other, though they claimed they were straight as arrows. As such, they sort of made it a profession to pick on the gays at our school, myself included. As I watch them exchange amused looks, I can see that little has changed. I guess it's too much to expect people to… I don't know… grow out of their high school idiocy.

"Well, lookie here. It seems we've found a little queer."

Mueller (I think) sniggers and whacks Alex (I think) on the shoulder as if that's the funniest thing a man has ever said.

Shoot me, _please_. I am _so _not in the mood to deal with these boobs. But I muster up a cheery smile and flip my hand out in the most stereotypical way I can manage. "I'm flattered you know who I am, darlings, but you are…?"

The two stooges exchange glances.

The one I've deemed Alex shoves my shoulder. "Look, you little fag, don't think we're going to let what happened slide."

What happened? Slide? Bewildered, I stare at them. I haven't seen these morons since high school, what could I have possibly done… Unless…

I blink and snort. "You've been holding onto that grudge since high school?" I shake my head, highly amused. I remember now. It was Lucy's Five-Days-'Til-Graduation party. (She had parties for everything.) _Everyone_ was there. Everyone was in various stages of intoxication. Alex and Mueller were no exception. They passed out around 2 AM. And, with Quatre's help, I stripped them down to their boxers and wound them around each other. Snagging Lucy's camera, I snapped a picture and, sneaking on campus, (Lucy lived like… two blocks away from school at the most) we posted the pictures on lockers, notice boards, and classroom doors. Needless to say, they did _not_ have time to live it down. Funny as hell, if you ask me and, hey, they deserved it!

But _god_, that was _high _school!

I roll my eyes. "What are you going to do? Throw me in a trash can?"

The stooges exchange glances again.

"Sounds like a good idea to me," says 'Mueller'.

"There should be a dumpster in the back," adds 'Alex'.

_SERIOUSLY!?_ I honestly thought I graduated from this!

Before I can make a break for it, they each grab an arm and muscle me out of the ballroom. I try to thrust my foot back into 'Alex's shin, but the two morons take a sharp right, knocking me off balance. I groan, seeing the exit is just down the hall. I really don't need to add dumpster diving to my list of great experiences this evening.

"You fuckers can get arrested for this," I snarl.

"Is that right?" 'Mueller' muses.

"Yeah," I reply with smug confidence. "You know they videotape these halls. I'll take your asses to court with the proof to back me up."

As if they have one mind, their steps falter. They give me just the opening I need. Squaring my footing, I shift to the right and slam my shoulder into 'Alex'. He drops my arm with a surprised "oof!" and then I latch a foot around 'Mueller's ankle and yank hard. He drops and I step back, dusting my hands off to show off my satisfaction. Not really that hard. "Seriously, guys. Touch me again and I'll kick your fucking asses."

"What about those security tapes?" 'Mueller' grumbles.

"Yeah!" 'Alex' chimes in wittily.

I arch a brow. "All right. Just tell the cops how a 'fag' dropped you, hmm?"

They glance at one another and fall into a sullen silence. Stumbling to their feet, they slam past me with bitter looks on their faces. God! Such _babies!_

"I was going to ask if you needed help. I suppose you do not."

Glancing over my shoulder, I see Heero leaning against the wall, cool as a cucumber. I give him a frosty stare. "No, I did not. I can handle myself fine, thanks."

"You're angry."

"No I'm not." I huff. I stomp. "Okay, yes, I am. Where the hell were you?"

He blinks in vague surprise, as if maybe that's not what he expected me to be angry about. "I had to step out."

"Uh, yeah. Noticed that."

"I wasn't… feeling well."

I blink. "… oh…" I scratch my head, suddenly feeling awkward. "Well… you couldn't let me know that you were going to just… peace out on me?" I'm trying to stay mad, I really am, but it's hard when I feel absolutely awful about getting irritated when the poor guy wasn't feeling well.

"I'm sorry."

I hang my head, holding a hand up. "Nah. 'Sokay. You didn't really miss much."  
"I'm still sorry."

"Seriously… it's okay." I peer up at him with a faint smirk. "And if it makes you feel any better, I didn't really want to come in the first place."

He gives me a strange look. "Then why did you?"

I laugh. "When you see Quat's puppy dog face you'll understand."

"Hmm."

Crossing the hall, I grab his arm. "Come on. Let's walk or something." But he doesn't move readily and his arm slips from my grip. I turn back to him. "Dude, you coming?" And I find he's staring at me. Tilting his head, he studies me for a long, puzzling minute. Kind of unsettling, really.

I return with a strange look of my own, grabbing my cheeks. "What? There something on my face? In my teeth? I don't remember eating anything…"

He shakes his head and pushes himself off the wall. "Let's walk," he finally agrees, and heads off without me.

I give his back a second strange look and then trot after him. "Wait up, ditcher."


	14. Tacos and More?

**Special Delivery**

_AN: Surprise! I'm back and I come bearing a new chapter! Forgive this most horrible delay. I suffered (and perhaps still suffer) a terrible case of writer's block brought on by a slew of things. And it didn't help that this chapter went through several incarnations before completion! Anyway, to those of you still waiting to read the next chapter, please enjoy!_

**Chapter 14: _Tacos… and More?_**

I take a deep breath and enjoy the familiar smells of Tacos & More as Heero and I step inside. Everything still looks and sounds the same, too. God, it's hard to believe it's only been five years. It feels like I haven't been here in forever…

"Duo, you may want to step aside," Heero says behind me. "Other people are trying to enter the building."

I grin sheepishly, apologizing to the group of high school girls that are eyeing us from behind, and take a large step sideways to let them pass. I inhale deeply again. "God, I can already taste that Loaded Burrito."

"What is a loaded burrito?" he asks, leaning towards the nearest wall to examine a faded poster.

"Uh… a burrito that's loaded?" I mean, what else _would_ it be?

Glancing over his shoulder, he gives me a look that says 'Yeah, I could've figured _that_ out on my own.' Quite a look, really.

With a laugh, I shrug and pull out my cell phone. I punch in a quick text to Quatre to let him know that Heero and I weren't kidnapped and then shut it down. I don't really want this fun little outing to be ruined by him calling and bitching at me for ditching the reunion. Hey, I already said I didn't want to go. I would've probably found a way out of it with or without Heero. Though I have to admit company (particularly his, even if he isn't much of a conversationalist) is a lot better than being alone.

As we drift into line, I find my attention grabbed by the television in the corner. By the looks of it, the evening news is on. Kind of unexpected, really. They used to always have a random sitcom on.

"-been missing for a week and a half, neither family suspects this to be an abduction," the female reporter is saying in that reporter voice they all seem to have. "At today's press conference, Relena Peacecraft mentioned that, although an international detective has been hired to look into the disappearance of her fiancé, they won't be releasing any further information at this time."

I snort as the program airs footage from said press conference. "Guy sounds like a first class ass, skipping out on his fiancée like that," I say to Heero.

In response, he grabs my shoulders, frowning, and turns me away from the TV to face the counter. "You should not say things unless you know the situation."

I jerk my head back in surprise, looking back at him. "Excuse me?"

"Time for you to order."

My eyes narrow. Okay, _really _now. How stupid does he think I am? No need to play this game with me. "What?"

"Time for you to order," he repeats innocently, turning me back to the counter again. The burrito wrangler is watching me impatiently.

"All right already," I mutter. What the hell is _with_ people today? "A loaded burrito, please, no onions and extra guac on the side." I gesture impatiently for Heero to place his order when he doesn't speak up.

"I am not familiar with this type of food," he says after a moment.

"Just pick anything." When he gives me a look, I shrug, grinning. "Hey, if you can eat squiddy spaghetti, you can eat anything, am I right?"

"No."

The answer is so blunt that I can't help but make a face at him. "_Okay_ then… How about this? Do you like steak or chicken?"

"Both are fine."

"Well, which do you like better?"

He gives me a look like 'why would anyone care for one over the other?'

I groan and roll my eyes. So _impossible! _"Just humor me."

"Ah. Then… I say chicken."

"All right. We'll start you off with one chicken taco. Do you want onions?"

"No."

"Cheese?"

"Minimal."

"Beans?"

Heero gives me a funny look. "Is this another questions game?"

I can't help but smile. What a quirky guy. "Just trying to place your order, man."

He hums and declines the beans.

All right then… "Um… what about salsa?"

"You choose."

"Salsa it is, then." I smirk. "I hope you like spicy things." I have to admit that I'm feeling playful at the moment. And yeah, I'll even admit that the innuendo is heavy in my voice. Even the burrito wrangler rolls his eyes at me.

"I do like spicy things" is Heero's reply.

I choke back a laugh and glance over at him. I can tell by the way he stares at the menu that he's entirely serious. About spicy _foods_, that is. Ah, such a shame that my hints were wasted. But I guess that's part of his charm.

We pay for our food and make our way to a table in the corner. Heero slides onto the chair across from me. Offering up my most winning smile, I then dig in. After murmuring something in Japanese, he does likewise. As I relish the familiar (and delicious) flavors of the loaded burrito, I take in the restaurant. Not much has changed, aside from the staff (and who knows, maybe old Roberta still works here?) and what's on the television. The same posters line the walls. The chairs are covered in the same yellow and red southwestern weave. Even the little tinkling bell over the doorway is the same.

That very bell grabs my attention as a new customer waltzes in. He's short, like Heero and me, and lean. Slick black hair is pulled into a short tail and when he removes his sunglasses… wow… freaking _hot_. Not as hot as Heero, but good lord. I must have a thing for the Asian persuasion because _damn… _Those eastern countries must have all the good genes.

Grinning, I glance at Heero. "Is that a relative?" I ask teasingly.

He looks up surprisingly quickly and glances over his shoulder. He watches That Guy for a minute and then turns back to me, frowning. "What are you talking about? He's not even Japanese."

I don't really get the annoyance in his voice. "I—hey, I didn't mean—dude, I was _joking._"

"Well, it isn't a funny joke," he says stubbornly. "It just makes you sound ignorant."

I feel my face burn. "Well _excuse_ me for being ignorant!" And a cell phone rings, interrupting me before I can really get on a roll. Heero's cell phone, I guess, since I turned mine off. You think he would've done the same.

I shut my mouth and stare at him as it goes off again. He makes no move to take the call. Of course, as embarrassed and subsequently annoyed as I am at the moment, the ringing is already driving me nuts.

"Aren't you going to answer that?" I snap. In case it wasn't obvious, this is how I deal with embarrassment—get angry. It covers things pretty well, though I already know it doesn't help the situation any.

He purses his lips before pulling out the phone, glancing at the screen, and flipping it open. He mutters something in Japanese, listens to whatever the person has to say, and then stands. With a brief gesture to me that he'll be right back, he walks away. No, no. Don't mind me. I'll just be sitting here _waiting…_ _Ignorantly._

With an irritated grunt, I lean back in my chair and fold my arms over my chest. Maybe it was good he took his call because I'm sure whatever I was going to say in my post-embarrassment rant would've just been me sticking my foot so far into my mouth that my toes dangled out my ass. I'm surprisingly notorious for that.

Just take a deep breath man… You were in the wrong and really… the more you harp on it, the more everyone else will _remember_ your little blunder… With a groan, I run my hands down my face. Stupid, stupid, _stupid!_

With a sigh, I straighten, willing myself to chill. Take in the sights a little.

Just outside Tacos & More, I can see Heero. From the looks of it, he's arguing with whoever is on the phone and I'm further glad the call interrupted us, though I wonder if part of his obvious ire is caused by my comments. Naturally, curiosity replaces my annoyance. Just who is he on the phone with and why is it bothering him so much? It leads me to further wonder what kinds of things annoy Heero because, frankly, I don't know. Aside from confusing a person's er… race or ethnic origins or whatever politically correct term it ought to be.

I take another bite of my burrito, still watching Heero. He snaps his phone shut and leans against the glass window. After a moment, he pushes away and comes back inside. His face is mostly impassive, but the corners of his eyes are tight. A sign of annoyance, perhaps?

"Everything okay?" I ask, even though I'm already sure things aren't.

Sitting down abruptly, he sets his phone on the table. "Is a cell phone retailer near this place?"

I shrug, quite aware that he hasn't answered my question. "There used to be, I think. We could look." I glance at his phone, which is about as state-of-the-art as you can get. "But why? That looks brand new." I guess when you've got money a brand new phone is ancient history the moment you pull it from its box.

He picks up the phone again and flips it open to turn it on. Or would have if the screen hadn't come clean off. "This is broken," he says unnecessarily, tossing the two pieces onto the table again.

I swear under my breath. Broken _indeed!_ Arching a brow, I glance at him. It wasn't broken when he'd answered it. This means that he's the most obvious culprit for breaking it.

"Well, yeah. Do you want to head out now or are you going to finish eating?"

He glances down at the taco on his plate, then at my burrito. "I am not hungry."

I'm not really sure I'm so hungry any more, either, so I nod in agreement. Always conscious of the fact that I will, indeed, be hungry later, I grab us a couple of doggy bags, stow the food inside, and Heero and I head for the door.

I get the uncomfortable sensation that I'm being watched and, sure enough, when I look over my shoulder, That-Guy-Who-is-Not-Japanese-but-Still-Asian-of-Some-Sort is staring at us. I quirk an eyebrow at him. He blinks, eyes narrowing slightly, and, casual as you please, his gaze slides away.

I frown. Got a problem, man? Can't handle two guys eating out together? Or are you that desperate to join in?

"Duo?"

I glance over at Heero to see he's halfway out the door, waiting for me to follow. "Ah, right. Coming." The door shuts behind me and That-Guy-Who-is-Not-Japanese is pushed out of my mind.

As we walk down the street, I mention that, if memory serves me right, there should be a purveyor of cell phones in the shopping center a couple of blocks down. Assuming things haven't changed too much in the past five years. That's about when Heero's hand slips in mine. A tingly sensation runs through my arm as I glance at him.

"What?"

I shake my head slightly. "I didn't say anything." Maybe he's through being mad?

"Is this wrong?"

"'Wrong' is really just something of your own interpretation."

"Eh?"

"No, it's fine." And as we keep walking, I find I can't keep the stupid grin off my face.

After another ten minutes of strolling casually down the street, I lift our linked hands and point out our destination. The shopping center is bigger than I remember; much more of a sprawling maze than a single strip of shops. But I see the cell phone shop, tucked off in a corner between a scanty lingerie boutique and an over-priced pampered pet store.

Crossing the street, we make our way through the evening shopping crowd and enter the store. Almost immediately, we are pounced upon by an overeager kid named Nick who tells us all about this week's special savings plans. Once it becomes obvious that Heero is in the market for a new phone and not I, I am shunted aside in favor of commission. Not that I really care. It leaves me free to browse all the awesome, if not totally out of my price range, merchandise at my leisure.

I've always been a huge fan of gadgets, so cell phones are right up my alley. I love figuring out how they work and how I can make them work for me. So, naturally, I make a beeline for the most hi-tech phones in the store. The picture and video capabilities, the storage, the multi-taskability… They're like mini-computers!

As I'm busy checking out a $600 wonder phone (seriously, who pays that much for a phone?! Even if it's _so_ freaking awesome… I could even sketch out preliminary design ideas on it!), Heero falls into step beside me. I glance over and gape when I see he has the box for the same phone in the bag in his hands. All right then, apparently _Heero_ pays that much!

"… one?"

"Uh… what?" I ask stupidly, too mesmerized by the fact he actually _bought _the $600 phone to pay attention to anything he's saying.

He points to the phone in my hands. "Do you want one?"

"What?!" I squawk loudly. Here is a guy who just dished out a shit-ton of money for one phone and he is ready and willing to do it again?! "Dude, you can't just do that."

"Why? We are married."

Okay, good point. I kind of forgot that. "Look… that's a really, _really_ nice offer, but my phone is fine. It does all I need it to do."

"How old is it?"

I shrug. "A couple of years, maybe?"

"Obsolete."

"Be that as it may…" I can feel my face scrunching up as I try to figure out how to convince him not to buy me the phone I don't really _need _even though I really, _really_ want it…

"All right. I understand." Pulling his brand new phone from his pocket, he holds it level and I hear the telltale 'snap' of a camera.

I blink. "Oh whoa, whoa, wait a second. Did you just take a picture of me?"

He is busy with his phone. "Yes."

"Aw man, seriously? You could've warned me. Erase it!"

"I like it." He shows me the picture. "It is better this way."

I stare at it and then at him. Better my ass. I look like a moron. "Dude… You put my picture as your wallpaper? That's so gay!"

"I think we are, ne?" Then he offers me this grin that makes me want to rip all his clothes off.

Grinning, I take the phone from his hands. "So… this is the picture button, eh?"

He looks over my shoulder and nods.

"Right then. And so this… ahhh, got it. And this saves it. _Nice…_" I turn the phone over in my hands, as if to inspect it further. And that's when I lean in and kiss him hard on the mouth. I aim the phone in what I hope is our direction and click what I hope is the camera button. Then I pull back, grinning when I see his stunned expression. Flipping the phone around, I take a glance at the picture. Not bad. I cut off the tops of our heads, but it'll work. I can't help but laugh. Even in the picture, Heero looks surprised.

"Now _this_ makes it the gayest wallpaper of all." And I set the picture as such.

"I hope you had a good time, Duo, because I'm going to kill you!" a voice says behind me.


	15. The Secret of Puppy Chow

**Special Delivery**

AN: _Surprise! I have, in fact, _not _given up on this story, contrary to all appearances! Previously, in SD, we found Duo escaping his high school reunion with Heero in tow. The pair ended up in Tacos & More, where Duo insulted Heero, Heero got a mystery phone call, and, after taking said call outside, promptly broke his phone. The two went to pick out a new phone when _someone_ found them and decided that Duo must die. Enjoy and Happy Holidays!_

**Chapter 15:_ The Secret of Puppy Chow_**

I flinch at the sound of my very best friend's voice. Slowly, I turn around and there he stands, with a stern, parenty look on his face and a very amused-looking Trowa directly behind him.

"Hey guys! You found us!"

Quatre growls.

"How?"

He rolls his eyes. "How long have I known you, Duo? I figured you'd bail on the reunion at some point and the most probable place for you to go, since you hadn't even stayed long enough to _eat_, was Tacos & More. I tried to get a hold of Heero, since _you_ turned your phone off, but his line was busy. So Trowa and I went there, only to find you'd left. So we tried to call Heero again-"

"Wait, wait, wait. How do you know his phone number?"

"It's my job to know."

I arch an eyebrow. Exactly _what_ is it that he does now where it would be 'his job to know' crap like that anyway? Just what has he gotten into? "All right, that sounds really creepy."

"I'm well aware of that."

I snort.

"Anyway, we tried calling him again, only this time his number was out of order, so I formed the next most logical conclusion… that you guys ended up here." Quatre drew in a deep breath. "And now I plan on killing you. How could you bail on us like that?" he snaps.

"Well, considering you knew I'd already run I don't get why you're so upset."

He growls again.

"Be_sides_… _you're_ not at the reunion anymore. Why is that?"

"It ended unexpectedly early," Trowa explains, smirking faintly.

I hum. "How come?"

"Sally's water broke," Quatre says.

"Well I don't see why that's any reason to stop a reunion. It's just a glass of water," I say seriously.

Rolling his eyes, he says sharply, "Don't play dumb, Duo, you know what I meant. She's having her twins!"

I can't hold back my grin any longer. "Ah, right, right. Birthing children is quite a party killer."

He smacks me hard over the head.

"Ouch! Seriously, man! That hurt!"

At that moment, Heero grabs hold of Quatre's wrist and everyone stills. The look on his face hasn't changed, but the mood certainly does.

"Let him go," Trowa growls. My _God_ he looks fierce.

"Nani?"

Then Trowa surprises me by responding in _Japanese_. Since when could he speak Japanese?

Heero looks at him, also in obvious surprise, and drops Quatre's arm. "I apologize." He bobs his head in a brief bow.

I stare at the two of them. What. The. _Hell?_

Quat waves his hand through the air. "It's fine. A misunderstanding, I'm sure?" He gives me a questioning look and I shrug. Like _I_ would know what that was all about…

So we stand there in this incredibly awkward silence. Over Heero's shoulder, I notice the sales guy making his way towards us with one of those _looks_ on his face. Maybe you've seen them before? Those 'get out or I'm calling the police' kind of looks. Yeah, we made a scene all right—or Heero and Trowa did, at least.

Looping my arm with Quatre's, I say in an overly cheery voice "Well, I'm all shopped out!" and I march him straight out the door. Hopefully, the two Neanderthals will get the hint and follow.

As we step into the cool evening air, I glance at Quat. "Since when did Trowa learn Japanese? That _was_ Japanese he was speaking, right?"

He nods. Then smiles faintly. "He's very interested in Japanese dramas. He learned the language so he didn't have to bother with subtitles… though I really don't know how well he can actually speak it."

I quirk a brow, smirking. "You don't say? Japanese dramas?"

His fond smile grows a little more. "The cheesier, the better."

"Oh _really_…"  
He casts me a sidelong glance and gives me a pained look. "Duo, don't tease him about it."

"But it's so _weird!_ Who watches Japanese dramas?"

"I join him sometimes, though I make Trowa use subtitles for me…"

"Weirdoes…"

He elbows me in the ribs.

"Careful. Don't want Heero to see that."

"Ah, yeah. About that…" Quatre gives me a concerned glance. "He treats you okay, doesn't he?" he asks in a low voice.

"_What?_"

His voice drops lower. "Well, his reaction in the store was a little… intense—"

"That's just the kind of person he is." I think?

"Yes, well, his grip was strong enough that I thought he'd snap my wrist…" He rubs said wrist and frowns. "But as long as he's not that kind of person towards you…?"

"He's not knocking me around, Quat." Of course, we've only been together for, what… two weeks? It's as good a time as any for him to start, I guess. People have done worse things to each other. "If you didn't notice, I think he was angry at _you _for hitting me. So don't worry about me."

He gives me a once over, hums, and then nods. "Just let me know if—"

I wave my hand to silence him. "I know you've got my back."

"Always."

"Are you two done getting cozy?" I hear Trowa call out.

Glancing back over my shoulder, I see him standing beside Heero in front of the shop, looking very impatient. I grin. "Nah, I thought I'd keep him for a while."

"Over my dead body."

"Oh? Well, that could be arranged. Cradle Robber."

"Duo, don't _start_ that again!"

"What? He likes it."

"Maybe in your dreams, Short Bus."

"How do _you_ know what I dream about?"

"What does he mean, calling you a short bus?"

"Don't ask, Heero."

"Enough!" Quatre snaps. "You three are seriously giving me a headache!"

I arch a brow. "Heero didn't do anything."

He makes a noise that sounds something like 'meringue!'

Grinning, I give him a quick side-hug. Poor guy. "You know you love us."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that…"

I laugh. And then pause. Just behind Heero, I see a guy walk into the cell phone shop. One who looked oddly familiar…

"Is something wrong?" Quatre asks.

I shake my head. Okay, so what the hell is with me being so paranoid? It isn't _unnatural_ to see someone in different places, even if they _are_ kind of weird. "Just over-thinking some stuff. Why?"

He looks at me, then at Heero, quirks a brow and shrugs. "Nothing, I guess."

Trowa gives us all a strange look. "Are we going to stand here all night?"

"That was my plan."

"Dumbass."

"Do you two _ever_ stop?"

I laugh. "You know you'd freak out if we did."

He harrumphs.

"How about this? Let's get some junk food, some beer, rent a couple of movies, and go back to your place?" I jerk my head towards the street. "That sounds a lot better than the reunion, anyway."

After some thought, and an obviously failed attempt to stay mad at me, Quat exchanges glances with Trowa, then nods. "Sounds good."

Aside from announcing he was going to take a shower when we got back to Quatre and Trowa's, Heero had been quieter than usual for the remainder of our outing. As I take Skylar out for a potty break, I wonder about his silence—Heero's, I mean. When we were buying his phone, he seemed pretty… I don't know, content, I guess. A little flirty, which was ridiculously cute. Maybe he's being shy? After all, I did drag him off to meet my friends when he'd only known _me_ a whopping two weeks. He had a day to get to know them. _Then_ I drag him to a class reunion where _everyone_ was a stranger to him. If I really think about it I've been pretty inconsiderate.

Skylar bumps my hand with her cold, wet nose, signaling that she's ready to go in for a treat, so I bring her back into the house, feed her said treat, and head into the kitchen. Trowa's busy popping popcorn. He was even kind enough to start melting chocolate chips and peanut butter together for me for the snack Quat suggested (to be read as 'demanded') I make.

"Thanks," I say, giving the concoction a stir before pouring out a heaping helping of corn-check cereal.

"No problem." He hands me a paper bag and a container of powdered sugar. "You think I'll stand in the way of Quatre and your Puppy Chow? Not a chance."

I laugh. "It's like crack to him."

"He loves it, all right."

"More than he loves you?"

"Probably."

"Maybe you should cover yourself in peanut butter, chocolate, and powdered sugar?" I smirk

"And let him lick it off." Trowa grins wickedly.

"Kinky."

"And messy."

"But sex is best when it's kind of messy, right?" The peanut butter and chocolate have become one, so I pour it over the cereal and gingerly mix it all together.

He laughs. Cracking open a beer, he hands it to me. "So anyway, what's up with this Heero guy? You guys close?"

If you call being married close. "Thanks." I take a sip, belch louder than necessary, and grin sheepishly. "Whoops. Well, we haven't banged, if that's what you mean" is my evasive reply. Then I give him a pointed look. "Did Blondie put you up to this?"

Trowa shrugs. "Sort of."

I roll my eyes.

"That's just how he is."

"Believe me, I know."

After a couple minutes filled with companionable silence, I deem the corny-chocolaty-peanut-buttery mess to be ready for the sugar so I dump it into the bag with plenty of sugar and give it all several hearty shakes.

"But we're both…" Trowa begins. He pauses for a long moment, screwing up his face. "We're both worried about you, I guess."

"You guess?"

"Shut up."

"I don't know what you're worried about. Puppy Chow?"

"Don't mind if I do." He reaches into the opened bag and grabs a handful. "Anyway, we all know your track record of failures." He pops a couple of pieces into his mouth. "Mmm, this is good."

"Thanks. And, seriously, shut up yourself. If I have a track record of failures… no, just shut up."

Trowa shrugs again. "I'll put in the movie and bring all this crap out to the living room. You grab Quat and see if your lover's out of the shower." He winks. "Don't take too long helping him dry off."

I wave him off and do as I'm told. Anything to avoid the rest of _that_ conversation. I mean, _come on…_ Track record of failures? I feel my face burn a little. Okay, so maybe it's a little true. But for Christ's sake, they had a hand in a lot of those failures!

Having no idea where Quatre went, I go to check on Heero first. The door to the room we are sharing is cracked open and I hear voices. I frown slightly, pausing.

"He's been through enough and if you hurt him, so help me, I'll—"

"You didn't answer _my_ question." Heero sounds irritated.

"Of course I didn't! You're changing the subject!" It's Quatre and his tone is so accusatory. "Don't think you can avoid this!"

Don't tell me _they're_ fighting! After all of Quat's squawking about Trowa and me? I should stop them. After all, I'd _like_ my best friend to accept this guy. It would sure make friendly visits a lot easier. But curiosity wins over necessity. Not like I thought it'd lose. I'm a pretty curious guy. And I have the feeling they're talking about me. So I lean against the wall, listening.

"I do not intend to hurt him."

Quatre mutters something I can't quite hear. Speak up, dude! There are eavesdroppers present!

"You are very protective over him," Heero says dryly.

Don't I know it.

There is a loud sigh. "Well, he's my best friend. And a really good guy. He's been screwed over enough for a lifetime and I don't want to see it happen again."

I roll my eyes. _Very_ overprotective.

"It sounds like you are guilty as well."

"Well, I am."

I blink. Quatre? Guilty for what?

"See, back in high school, I… sort of stole Trowa out from under him."

Oh God, _seriously! _That's _enough!_ I shove the door open. "Hey guys, what's up? Quatre, you sure talk a lot."

He and Heero look at me so quickly it's like something out of a comic movie. I chuckle a little.

"Duo…"

I wave my hand at him. "Movie's ready. Popcorn and Puppy Chow are ready. Everything's ready but you two. Come on. Your spouse is waiting for you." I push Quatre out the door.

Turning back, I see Heero watching me intently. It makes me feel like I have to explain something, though I don't know why. It's not like I've done anything wrong. Quatre just _had _to shoot off his mouth. "Listen… what he was saying. We were high schoolers. _Everything _was drama back then. Besides, he's exaggerating. Don't listen to him."

His left brow lifts a little.

Looping my arm with his, I pull him out the door. "Let's go eat some Puppy Chow, eh?"

"But I am not a puppy…"

That little statement makes me laugh so hard my ribs start to ache. "Of course you're not," I sputter.

I'm not stupid. I know this isn't over and I know he's going to ask me what the hell Quatre was talking about later. Assuming my dear friend doesn't decide to finish his story. But until that time comes, I'm not saying a word. No use poking through bullshit if I don't have to.


End file.
